The Better Claim
by Salome Weil
Summary: The Battle for Hogwarts was lost, but Hermione was captured before she could help Harry find the last key to destroying Voldemort. Imprisoned as a slave for Death Eaters, will she accept Draco's help so she can survive? M for language, sexual content.
1. In Which a Decision is Reached

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise and make no profit from this fiction; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling. Nor do I own the works of Robert Frost.**

* * *

_Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,_

_And sorry I could not travel both_

_And be one traveler, long I stood_

_And looked down one as far as I could_

_To where it bent in the undergrowth;_

_Then took the other, as just as fair,_

_And having perhaps the better claim,_

_Because it was grassy and wanted wear;_

_Though as for that the passing there_

_Had worn them really about the same,_

_And both that morning equally lay_

_In leaves no step had trodden black._

_Oh, I kept the first for another day!_

_Yet knowing how way leads on to way,_

_I doubted if I should ever come back._

_I shall be telling this with a sigh_

_Somewhere ages and ages hence:_

_Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--_

_I took the one less traveled by,_

_And that has made all the difference._

_-Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken_

* * *

Hermione struggled under his grip briefly, too afraid of what he might do to her if she actually protested to fight him off. He smiled at her, his teeth bright white in the darkness of her cell as he felt her still in his grasp.

"Good girl. You're learning."

She turned her head away, allowing herself a small respite from his stare. She hated these nights. The way his eyes undressed her, the way he didn't even bother to pretend anymore. Instead of talking, or trying to sweeten the moment somehow, all she felt was his hands on her, lifting her shift, pulling her legs apart, feeling at her most intimate place.

She shivered. She couldn't help herself. She heard him chuckle softly at her reaction and felt him lean forward over her. His mouth was near her ear, his breath caressing her neck.

"Like that? Want more, little one?"

She shivered again and squirmed beneath his hands, shaking her head.

"Oh, now…you have to tell me what you want. I don't understand when you shake your head that way…" he whispered, still teasing her with his fingers. They prodded at her, spreading her folds, slipping between them and dipping into her.

She let out a small moan of frustration and terror. Why did he do this? Why insist on torturing her with his words and actions? He could have her at any moment, rough and hard and never bother to ask her anything at all- she was his slave, to do with what he wished.

He growled at her silence and suddenly gripped her throat beneath one hand, bringing the other from under her shift to reach for his wand. With a sharp jab at her inner thigh, he muttered a lubricating spell and Hermione felt a familiar moist, warming sensation between her legs. The heat sent a jolt of feeling up her body from her groin and she let out a small cry.

No matter how often it happened, or how much he taught her, she could never help the begging. It always rose to her lips, unbidden and humiliating.

"No…please, no…" she tossed her head back and forth, even as he tightened his grip on her neck.

"What was that?" he hissed, his tongue flicking out of his mouth and tracing her earlobe.

"No-ooo…" she choked out one last time, feeling his hand begin to crush her windpipe. She opened her mouth wide, desperate for air, and clawed at his back with her hands. The chains holding her in place clanked with each movement and tears rose to her eyes.

Then, at the last second, as darkness began to swim in her vision, he released her throat and she gulped in a large breath just before he covered her mouth with his. It happened the same way every night. He choked her until she couldn't breathe, forcing her to open her mouth, and then he invaded her with his tongue. It was sick and gross and she hated every minute of it, but some small part of her body betrayed her every night.

He would take the lubrication he'd conjured and, with his other hand, scoop it from her warmth and cover her folds with it, rubbing it across her clit until she felt her hips jerking to attention. He liked to humiliate her in more ways than the one- by forcing her body to betray her, forcing her to feel some physical pleasure from his disgusting caresses.

And, then, like always, he was pressing into her, covering her body with his, keeping her mouth captive beneath his. Assaulting her even as her hips bucked under the gentle touch he reserved for one part of her body. Raping her with her body's permission.

She hated herself.

He pushed in and out slowly, cruelly, knowing that despite the lubrication and his caress he was still hurting her. He smiled into the kiss and lifted his hand from her neck, holding her jaw open as he came up for air and another round of verbal insults.

"You're just a mud blood whore, aren't you? Not a real witch at all, no…you like it when I touch you like this, don't you? You can't wait until I come back and open you up for another round…"

She let out a muffled cry as his lips covered hers once again and felt the tears running out the corners of her eyes. She came as he did, as he always made sure she would, and pulled herself away as soon as he released her. The chains clanked as she tugged her shift back down over her knees and crawled into a corner.

Blaise looked down at her and smiled again, his teeth a beacon of light in the dungeons.

"That's my little Gryffindor. I'll see you again soon."

She merely trembled at his voice and looked away as he exited her cell and padlocked it once again. She could hear his footsteps receding and voices filtered down the hall to her cage as he met with a fellow Eater.

"Zabini. Been using again, have you?"

"Don't sneer at me, Malfoy. You're no less a user than I am."

"The only reason I follow you in here every night is to clean up your messes. How'd you leave her this time?"

"Wet and begging for more, as usual."

"You're disgusting," the other man hissed and Hermione tried to pull herself further into the shadows of her cell as she heard him approach. The sound stopped right outside her door and she began to tremble again, more violently.

"No, please!" she cried out as the door opened.

"Merlin, Granger! Zabini is gone. It's only me. Now open your legs."

"No! No, I won't! You can't- it's inhuman!" she shrieked, trying to slap at his hands, but the chains weighed down her arms.

Draco was a healer for the Eaters, which in any other circumstance would have made her wildly happy…but his only job now was to heal the women after the men were done with them so that they would be fresh and ready for more abuse the next night. It was intolerably cruel. Hermione would rather gain scar tissue and calluses to protect her against further abuse than be healed to virginal status only to survive rape again, night after long, dreadful night.

And she knew he hated his job, which only made it worse to endure. To know he was pitying her, but would not, or could not do anything to help…it was torture.

Draco was quiet and didn't make another move towards her. Hesitantly, Hermione lifted her eyes to his face, peering at him from between the locks of hair that hung in her eyes. He was watching her, a serious look upon his face, as if he was thinking very hard about something. She wondered what it was- what he could possibly be feeling that would make him leave her a few seconds' peace. Finally, after what seemed a lifetime of internal deliberation, he knelt to her level. She shied away from his touch again, only to watch him lift his hands towards her, palms raised in a gesture of trust.

"I don't like this either, Granger," he murmured.

She turned her face away and curled back from him again. "Shut up," she whispered.

"Look, and if I said I wanted to help you, how would you react?"

"I said shut it!" she hissed, striking his hand away again as she felt him try to brush her hair from her face. "You hate me! I know you do- you and everyone else here. Even the other prisoners hate me, for letting myself be captured. They all know Harry and Ron don't stand a chance without me- they're probably dead already!"

Draco sat back on his heels and gave a wry laugh. "Is that what you really think? You have so little faith in your best friends?"

"Why shouldn't I?" she whispered, miserable again. "Everyone else does. Besides, that they'd let me rot in here- it would make Ron crazy. They're already gone, I know it. It's just that letting us hope makes us more sport for your lot, doesn't it?"

She turned her face towards him again, this time tossing her hair from her face, and the look upon her face made his heart sink. She looked so proud, yet so completely defeated. He managed to lift the corner of his mouth in a sneer.

"Fine. Think what you want, Granger. Like you didn't tell them not to risk coming after you repeatedly. What's the matter? Don't feel like sacrificing for the greater good any longer?"

She spat in his direction and tried to stand, only to collapse to the ground again, dragged down by the weight of her chains. "No. I don't. I'd rather be dead than wallowing here in Death Eater seminal fluid every night. I've already sacrificed everything else- my mind, my optimism, my virginity, my dignity- may as well add the will to live on that pile."

Draco was not at all surprised by her answer, despite himself. Despite his belief in her unbreakable spirit. He wondered briefly if, had he been the one to take her, she would have fared better.

He squashed the thought just as quickly as it came.

"Just let me heal you, Granger. If you've lost the will to live, why can't you lose the will to fight me, too?"

"Because I hate you as much as you hate me. I still have some pride left, you maggoty scum of a wizard. How the hell did you get to this point, anyway? Healing the whores? Cleaning up after purebloods with less loyalty to…to blood purity than the Malfoys' virtue?"

"Still can't say his name?"

"It's forbidden. I finally figured it out after Blaise…" she suddenly went very quiet and still and Draco hunched back over onto his knees, leaning towards her.

"Blaise what?" he asked, suddenly nervous. "I've healed you for the same injuries every night the last four months. Nothing's changed."

She remained quiet and Draco grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. She let out a small cry and tried to hit him, but he caught her other wrist and held it firmly. "Blaise did what?" he repeated, his voice low.

Hermione shook her head and spat at him again, but her mouth was so dry she couldn't muster the saliva to do it. After several seconds she finally gave a rasping laugh and pulled away from him. He let her go, but stayed close.

"I used his name for the last time several weeks ago. I lost track of time about two months in, so I have no idea when it was. Maybe…maybe in the third month?" Draco nodded encouragingly and Hermione took a shaky breath, eying him, looking to him for…support? She shook her head again. "He…tortured me."

"How?"

"Don't make me say those things out loud, Draco. Please. Let it go. I'm sorry I said anything, I'm sorry…I'm so, so sorry…" she continued to mumble, lifting her chained hands to her eyes, trying to keep tears from falling. Draco took her shoulders again and began to run one hand over her ratty, knotted nest of hair.

"No, you don't have to apologize. Stop saying that, it's not your fault, it's not your fault…shh. Cry if you need to, but don't blame yourself…"

To Hermione's horror and, she had to admit, small comfort, she found her hands gripping his robe; found her body curling into the protective embrace he'd created. Found herself turning to Draco Malfoy, of all god forsaken people, for solace…and she told him the truth. Rather than react with disgust and push her away, however, he continued to hold her and whisper kind words in her ear.

After several minutes of silent tears, she finally pulled away. With a quick glance at him, she scooted backwards from him and spread her legs for him. She couldn't bear to look at him as he worked. Draco pulled out his wand again and cast the appropriate spells quickly as he could before he gently turned her about to take a look at the scars on her back…and lower.

"How long did you bleed?" he asked quietly. Hermione responded with a mumbled number and felt his hands shudder over her scar tissue. "And from…below, as well?"

Another small nod of the head, another shiver up the spine. Draco felt his gooseflesh rising and held back the bile he felt at Blaise's blatant disregard for the rules and Hermione's well being. Then again, he'd known of her presence here for months already and hadn't done anything to stop the abuse.

_Soon_, he told himself. _Not that she'll ever forgive me when she discovers the truth, but it took forever to track Potter. And what was I supposed to do in the meantime? Coddle her and let the sons of bitches know I had every intention of turning coat? Besides, there were others I had to help escape- others who'd been here longer._

He gave a long, low sigh and did his best to patch up the damage Blaise's curse had done. _Who am I kidding? She'll never forgive me, even if she finds out the truth. Which she won't. I won't forgive myself. Merlin, if only I'd known sooner…_

Rationally, Draco knew that previous knowledge wouldn't have done them any good at all. His hands were tied by two different parties, no one on either side trusted him, and if he let people go too soon then he would be found out. And if he was found out, he'd either be killed or have to leave the school immediately, meaning he would no longer have a place in the Dark Lord's ranks in which he could do good.

For several months now, he'd been helping prisoners- those connected to the Order, or simply innocent bystanders and muggles- escape. It wasn't something the purist side of himself was proud of, but it was an accomplishment the arrogant bastard side of himself actually seemed to enjoy. After all, the Dark Lord and his fellow Death Eaters had pretty much ostracized his family- punished them for being realists- screwed them over so completely…

Yes, Draco took pleasure in thwarting his Lord's plans these days. And a small part of him hated the violence and sadism that went on in their ranks every hour of every day. Okay, a large part of himself hated it. The bottom line was that he'd had enough of sitting back and taking it. The unfortunate side was that it had taken him forever to convince the Order to go along with his plans. It wasn't until several members had been released at his hands had they finally stepped up to his demands. Still, the first several legs of the journey from Hogwarts back to Order headquarters were done via the original network of farm houses and villages Draco had set up when he'd first started his plotting.

But Hermione's escape would be different. He wouldn't be able to send her along the exact same route- she was too recognizable. Too well known. Besides, he seriously doubted now whether he would be able to get her to leave the castle. It was a shame, really, that Voldemort had taken Hogwarts in that battle- had it really only been a year ago? The battle everyone had hoped would be the final one. But even though Potter had found all the horcruxes Dumbledore had described to him, Voldemort hadn't died when he was supposed to and the trio and their allies had all fled. It wasn't that they were feeling cowardly, it was just that they knew that without finding and destroying whatever horcruxes had been missed, they couldn't truly defeat the monster. So the Death Eaters and their allies had decided to set up Hogwarts as their new headquarters. And now Draco was back in his service, stuck in school _forever_. Merlin, he couldn't think of a worse punishment for his sins. The really sick part of it was that, while torture, chaos and mayhem was happening in the dungeons and other areas of the school, classes were still open to children of pureblood and Death Eater parents. Voldemort had allowed the place to continue to function as an active place of learning.

It was revolting. He hated to think about what they were teaching the poor things. It would be like his own childhood, only ten times worse…because all the horrors he didn't experience until he took the mark would be shown to these children, day after wretched day. They would grow up, ready to take their places at their parents' sides without batting an eyelash. If they made it that far.

"Draco?" came a whisper from in front of him. "Malfoy? Stop- you can…stop now."

Draco came out of his thoughts with a start and realized he still had one hand sitting on the now relatively smooth skin of her back. He ran the hand over the length of it without thinking and heard her gasp. With another start, he lifted his hand and made to stand up.

"I'm sorry. That should work for now. If I had access to some salves it would help the scarring more, but as it is-"

"I know," she interrupted him. Then she tugged her shift down again and turned around, curling into the far corner once more. "Thank you," she whispered.

He shrugged and stood up. He had to figure out how he was going to get her out of here. Tomorrow. Maybe even tonight. There was no way, after hearing her story, that he was going to let her stay in this dump one more night- let her face Zabini again. It would not happen again on his watch. He'd helped the last names on his list escape and now there was just her left- she was the last one who had any life left in her at all. The others were on death's door already.

He even thought she was near it, herself, but he couldn't let himself think that way. The only reason Potter hadn't been able to defeat Voldemort was because he needed Hermione's brains, after all.

She had to leave Hogwarts immediately. He looked her over intently, one hand on the door of her cell, the other holding his wand resolutely. She looked as defeated and broken as she had when he'd gotten there. Even the fight displayed in her eyes was fading faster with every night that passed. Her outbursts of anger were getting shorter.

She needed hope. She needed a life. She needed to recover.

But if anything, he couldn't let her know what was happening. The others he had been able to warn- but not her. She was bound to argue with him, fight him. Distrust him.

He cleared his throat. "I'll see you again soon, Granger," he murmured. Then he closed the cell door and walked away.

Hermione watched him go, watched the light in her cell dim to darkness and frowned. Let him look at her like she was broken- like she was jaded, cynical, completely fatalistic. But for the first time since her capture, the sound of crying did not follow him down the corridor.

His final words to her every night had always been, "I'll see you tomorrow." And now he would see her _soon_. Something was happening. It might be her release for nefarious purposes. It might be her death. Either would be fine with her at this point, though she secretly yearned for death.

She felt something strange blossom in her chest. Whether it was the black lung or not had yet to be discovered.


	2. In Which Draco Acts

Draco marched the halls of Hogwarts, thinking out what to do next. He'd had a plan in place for months, but he suddenly wondered if it would be enough. If he'd really be able to get her out of the castle safely- well, safely compared to the alternative.

He found himself at his quarters just as the clock struck one. One in the morning. Well. He'd certainly been walking the grounds long enough. There was no more time for thinking. If he wanted her out safely, before Blaise touched her one more time, it had to be now. Under the cover of darkness. While half the castle slept, while all the inquisitive eyes of young children were shut in slumber and nightmares.

He stalked into his room and began directing essentials into a travel bag which he swiftly shrunk into a manageable size. Then he clasped it to his belt- it would look like a money bag to anyone else, or a pouch to carry extra healing potions in. He snapped his fingers at the memory and immediately left his quarters for the dungeons again- and the Potions closet. He'd need some potion making supplies as well as food…already made potions…

It was nearing two by the time he found himself at the stairs into the hell hole once again. He'd made a few quick stops at the kitchens and the infirmary, begging supplies off of the staff on duty with his usual charm and authority as a healer to back him up. For once he was grateful of his training. With a last glance behind himself and a flick of his wrist, he cast a localized silencing spell and descended the stairs.

There was no sound from anywhere on the corridor. Whoever was dying was already dead and whoever was injured had cried their last tears. He stopped in front of Hermione's cell and straightened himself. In order to make her move, to stand and come with him, he would have to say just the right thing. He would have to appear with the proper authority. She would never listen to him otherwise- not that she would listen now.

Then, with a prayer directed to anyone _but _the Dark Lord, he opened her door and went in. It was as dark as he'd left it, but he could hear some shuffling coming from a corner.

"Who…who is it? Bla- master? Is it you again?"

There was an audible tremble in her voice and Draco felt his anger against Zabini growing all over again. He continued to step forward in the darkness until he felt something ahead of him and then he knelt.

"It's me, Granger. I've come to take you away."

Hermione looked up in the darkness, but couldn't see anything. She only knew that the voice was indeed Draco's.

"What- why? Is it tomorrow already? I can't- I can't tell…" She knew her voice was shaking, but she couldn't help it. She was tired, emotionally and physically. She was ill. She wanted to sleep forever. Instead of letting her rest, she felt Draco's arms go under hers and heft her to her feet. Then she heard him mutter a spell and the chains binding her to the wall retracted, shifted and became a free set of manacles. She felt tears well in her eyes.

What was going on? No one ever left the dungeons unless they were dead…or on their way to dying. Was she going to meet her execution? Was this what he'd meant when he said he'd see her soon? She felt like she'd only just seen Draco a few hours ago, but it must have been at least a day…she was losing time, she wasn't herself…she was a slave to a Death Eater. She felt the sick humor of it- not for the first time- and a laugh bubbled to her lips. Draco's hand found her mouth and he covered it, shushing her as he held her up.

"Can you walk?"

Hermione only shook her head against his shoulder and lifted her shackled hands uselessly. She heard Draco curse and cast another spell- one to help her mobility. She shook her head again and turned it.

"What is happening?"

Draco felt her breath on his cheek and stepped away from her, keeping one arm close to steady her. She seemed to be standing alright and he finally let go altogether, digging in his pouch for something. When he found it, he pulled it out and mutter, "_Lumos_." Then he dug around again for a few seconds.

Hermione felt blinded by the unexpected and unnatural light- the only thing she'd seen for the last several months was residual torch light after all, and only that if she was fortunate. She shielded her eyes, not interested in whatever it was Draco was doing. Only when he put a hand on her shoulder and held a jar in front of her did she squint her eyes and take a look.

"What is it?"

Draco didn't bother to answer. There was no need for him to remind her that she had brewed Polyjuice Potion in her second year and should damn well know what it looked and smelled like after all her and Potter's escapades in the last year before the battle. Instead, he pushed it forward to her mouth.

"Drink it. If you won't do it yourself I'll force it down your throat."

Hermione tried to muster a glare, but it wouldn't come. Instead she allowed her head to be tilted back and let the disgusting, lumpy liquid slide down her throat. And when she began to feel strange a few moments later, she thought the sensation and taste were familiar, but she couldn't quite place her finger on it…maybe her Aunt Mildred's rum cake? It had been months since she'd had real food, too, so it was a stretch for her to care what was being shoved inside her at this point. Still, it was awfully familiar…that lumpy texture…and hadn't he added something to it before hand? She began to mentally run through her catalogue of potions even as he lead her from the cell and down the corridor.

Draco began to worry when she didn't ask any questions. There were no protests, no arguments…nothing. He wondered if she was even more far gone than he'd anticipated. Or perhaps it was simply the hour he was doing this at…either way, they had only a small amount of time to get out of the castle and he would take whatever she was giving.

"Follow me. Stay close."

"Where are you taking me?" she finally asked quietly as she stumbled along behind him.

"For a little trip," he answered enigmatically.

Hermione looked up at him from beneath her nest of hair and stared at his back. He turned and gave her a once over before he faced forward again.

"Stop slowing down."

She quickened her pace and accidentally stepped on his heels, bringing them both to a stop in the middle of one of the lower level hallways. They weren't out of the dungeons yet, but there were windows high up in the wall- long and narrow- that let in vague streams of moonlight.

"What are you doing?"

"Following you- I'm sorry!" she mumbled, only to hear Draco curse again.

"Stop saying-"

Another voice sounded from the hall in front of them and Draco spun around, arranging his features into a sneer.

"Malfoy! Back again?"

"As are you, Zabini. Must I answer to you?"

"Of course not. Who's this?"

Draco sniffed and yanked Hermione forward by her chain, who'd stiffened at the sound of her _master's_ voice. "Have a look."

Blaise looked her over, slightly puzzled, but mostly disinterested. "Yours? My, my. I thought she died last month."

Draco smirked. "That's what I wanted you all to think. You were far too interested for your own good. Why the lack of attraction now?"

"Granger keeps me busy- but that's not why I'm here tonight. We got in a fresh…shipment an hour ago. I imagine you've been healing them just now."

"Ah, yes." Draco allowed a second smirk. Zabini had received the false summons to the dungeons. He'd needed to get the man alone so that he could get him out of the way. He'd be the first to sound the alarm on Hermione's account, after all. "So you're getting a second?"

"Maybe third, who knows? Well. I'll see you tomorrow night, then. Sure you don't want to inspect the merchandise with me?"

"I'd rather eat cock, thanks. See you."

Draco started forward again, dragging Hermione behind him. He listened for Blaise's steps behind them the entire way…and then he stopped, only a few yards forward. He knew that the likelihood of Blaise _not_ checking in on Hermione while he was in the dungeons was low, so he couldn't just lock him in a cell. He didn't want to deliberately kill the man, but it would buy them more time…he cursed again and lifted his wand. Then he uttered yet another spell, directed down the hall towards Blaise's receding footsteps.

He heard Hermione gasp and he turned to her, clasping his hand over her mouth again, pressing her up against the wall.

"Enough!" he hissed. "Now come with me and not another word!"

Hermione's eyes were wide and full of fear and confusion. What was going on? Why had he just sent a curse after Zabini? Why hadn't Zabini recognized her? And where was he really taking her? As she gazed into Draco's grey, scared and angry eyes, at least one truth struck her. She twisted her head, freeing her mouth.

"You gave me Polyjuice Potion!" she whispered.

Draco stepped back, one hand still on her wrist and he glared at her. "Never mind and keep up, or else we're both dead tonight."

Hermione had no idea what was happening- but she assumed she was on her way to meet Voldemort himself. That man was the only one who would ever cause that kind of in-fighting with his troops. They were all too terrified of him to make any mistakes- like cursing a fellow precious, pureblooded Death Eater.

Hermione felt her mind go into panic mode and fought hard against it as she ran along behind Draco, half dragged. His first stop was back several yards at Blaise's body, where he removed the robe and floated the man's still figure into Hermione's empty cell, locking the door after him. Then they were moving forward and away again, quick as a wink. They were up the steep steps of the dungeons and finally out into a regular hallway before she could truly gather her thoughts and calm herself and even then her heart still beat as fast and dreadfully as it had the day she'd been captured.

"Wait- Draco…Malfoy, please- please, tell me- please, stop-" she tugged hard on his arm, yanking her wrist back and he finally stopped and turned to look at her.

"What?" he barked at her.

"Just tell me, please- am I…am I going to die tonight?"

Draco's heart thudded in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, allowing himself one moment of vulnerability, of emotion. It was the last he'd get to feel that night, he knew. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hands on her shoulders and hunched over so that he was looking directly at her. Keeping his voice quiet and steady, but serious, he answered her.

"Not if I can help it, Granger."

Her eyes met his again and she shivered. She wanted so badly to know what was happening, what was going on- but she daren't waste another second on talking. Whatever was going on, whatever Draco had planned- she had no choice but to go with him, whether she liked it or not.

And even if she didn't like it, at least he wasn't Zabini.


	3. In Which Hermione Resigns Herself

**Disclaimer: I own no part of Harry Potter ever at all and make no profit from this fiction. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling!**

* * *

Draco continued to drag Hermione along behind him and she stumbled after as best she could without making too much noise, but she finally yanked back on the chains. He stopped and turned around.

"What is it?"

"I have to…rest," she gasped. "My feet- I'm sorry," she whined softly. Draco closed his eyes as if he was trying to control his temper and sighed.

"Fine, but only a second. Let me take a look." He glanced up and down the hall and saw no one right away, so he knelt in front of where she leaned against a window sill to inspect her feet. They were definitely swollen from the manacles, never mind being made to run after months of inactivity. He looked up at her.

"I have a salve for this, but I can't give it to you until we've stopped for the night. Can you manage a little longer? I can cast a spell for the pain until then-" he stopped short as he realized she wasn't paying attention and stood up.

"Granger?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. She was staring into the window, wide-eyed. It was dark out and there was just enough torchlight inside that she could see her reflection. He tightened his grip on her shoulder. "Granger, I know what this looks like-"

"I'm Ginny…" she whispered, a hand on her cheek, looking at the reflection of her best friend. "Blaise thought I was Ginny. But he said she _died_ last month."

"Granger…" Draco whispered warningly.

"You…sick bastard," she hissed, turning to face him. "Ginny was _yours_? You sick- I can't believe you made me look like her! You killed her, didn't you? You let her die!"

Her voice was rising and she was so intent on the horror she was a part of that she didn't hear the oncoming voices, but Draco heard them and stiffened.

"Shut _up_," he growled at her, his tone so menacing that she actually did as she was told, despite the tears of rage in her eyes. "I won't let your grief risk both our necks, understand?"

She nodded once, slowly. He smiled tightly. "Good. I'm going to pretend to hit you now. Better make it look good, right?"

She barely had time to respond before he pulled his arm back and brought it forward swiftly. She felt the whisper of wind upon her cheek and threw her head to the side, smacking her thigh with her free hand to create the crack of his hand upon her cheek.

The Eaters who were almost upon them all turned to look and two of them hooted with laughter.

"Nice, Malfoy," another called. "What are you going to do, eat her once you've tenderized her a bit more?"

"Like you're a gentleman with yours, Shippman," Draco replied.

"Hey, I thought yours died," a second responded. "Last I saw her she was pretty beat up."

"Does it matter?" Draco answered, before he started forward with her again. "Excuse me for abusing my own property," he ground out as they passed the other men. That sent them into a fresh wave of laughter and Hermione choked on her own bile again as she stumbled after Draco. Only when they were safely away from prying eyes did she yank on the chains again, but Draco kept going this time.

"I'm sorry if your feet hurt, but we can't stop again. I'll cast the spell as soon as I can. Think you can suck it up until then?"

"You make me sick," she replied.

"Nothing I haven't heard already, Granger."

"I can't believe you."

"What, taking advantage of Ginny in order to make sure you escape? What's so hard to believe? Don't you think," he said, turning to face her suddenly, "that she'd _want_ you to use every resource? She would have given her life for you or any of the others. Why don't you shut up and be grateful now?"

Hermione stared up at him, exhausted, confused and utterly bereft. It was true, she couldn't think of any good counterarguments at the moment, but she was sure that whatever Draco was up to, it was not for the greater good. Still, he was her only option right now. Stiff upper lip, all that rot.

"Fine," she bit off. "Please cast the spell."

"Alright, then," he responded, his face a little kinder. "Over here," he said, jerking her in the direction of a darkened alcove. He immediately dug out Blaise's robe and shoes. "Put these on," he murmured, unchaining her and then rifling through his bag of potions. Hermione did as she was told; she knew it would be no use to try and run now that she was unchained. She was still as weak as before, she had no wand and no supplies. Draco remained her best bet, as much as it chaffed. As much as she wanted to claw his eyes out. Seconds later, he handed her another bottle of Polyjuice Potion.

"Drink it," he said.

She stared at it uncertainly. Who would she turn into next? Mrs. Weasley? Ron? _Harry_? How many deaths would she learn of tonight? Draco looked up at her and frowned.

"I don't want to sound cliché, but we _really _don't have all night, Granger. Drink it. You'll turn into Blaise-"

"No!" she hissed, dropping the bottle in disgust.

Draco caught it and started to yell at her again, but stopped short. A strange look came over him. "Oh," he murmured. "I'm sorry- I wasn't thinking. That would be worse than Ginny, wouldn't it? Here. I'll take this. You can be me. Come on," he said when he saw her staring at him, still in Blaise's robe. "Stop wasting time!"

She shook her head. "I- no, I'll drink it. You can't have an endless supply of Polyjuice, can you? I don't want to make you waste it just because I'm feeling squeamish," she whispered.

"You were victimized, Granger. That's hardly being squeamish."

"I said it's fine! Stop being so damned nice and give it back already," she muttered. She was feeling a little more alive, despite her aching body and tortured emotions, and she knew Draco was right. She didn't want to waste anymore time, either- especially not now that she was certain he was earnest in his escape plans. Draco Malfoy had never shown her an ounce of understanding or caring in school, except in that one moment in his family's mansion. He had been as beaten by the war as the rest of them and now he was calling her Granger and willingly touching her without making a face and it was clear he'd really thought through this escape. No one went to this much trouble for a simple trap these days. Voldemort wasn't that clever. No, this had to be Draco. Not that it made up for letting Ginny die. Or all the horrid things he'd done. In fact, he was probably escaping tonight because his own life was on the line. She shook her head as he opened the bottle of potion. Thinking about it made her head hurt and his reasons didn't matter much. It was too late for her, she had to follow him whether she wanted to or not.

""Here," he said softly, handing her the potion again. "Go slow." Then he quickly dealt with her aching feet while she downed the bottle's contents and he helped her shove the shoes on before he stood up again.

"Now, this is the hardest part," he whispered. "Just act like we've been drinking. I'll keep your arm around my shoulders and that should help people ignore the fact that you're limping. If anyone talks to you, sneer at them. Whatever you do, don't say anything- just follow my lead." Hermione nodded at him, noticing they were the same height now, and slung an arm about his shoulders as he helped her hobble from the alcove and out into the hall. He guided her through the upper halls, making loud, crude remarks about women and ale whenever someone passed, enticing her to sing lines of the school song in a drunken manner with him and they were finally out in the courtyard.

Things got a bit dicey for a moment, then. The guards noticed them and came over to question them. Draco deflected them as best he could and when they turned their attention to Hermione, she sneered and lolled about on a nearby bench. The guards laughed a bit, returning to their posts and Draco walked back over to her.

"Well done, Zabini," he smirked. "Now let's get you out of here." He hauled her arm back over his shoulders and hefted her to her feet. She leaned against him heavily, her energy finally starting to give out.

"I don't know how much longer I'll last," she whispered. Draco nodded and one of the guards turned back to glance at them again. He seemed a bit suspicious.

"Is he sick?" the man called.

"Nothing that can't be fixed by a hot bath," Draco replied. "Maybe a hit to the head."

"He's really not looking good," the guard responded and began to move forward. Draco looked at Hermione and realized the potion was beginning to wear off. His heart stopped for a split second and then he turned back to the guards.

"Shit, he was bitten by a prisoner just this week. Must be a side effect."

"What did the prisoner have?"

"Er, Higgenbottom Syndrome," he replied. "Very contagious if bitten. I'd better get him upstairs before he starts showing any more symptoms."

The guards continued to watch suspiciously as Draco half dragged a rapidly shrinking Zabini over to another corridor. Hermione groaned a bit and he leaned her against a wall as he felt at a statue of a phoenix in front of them. He thanked his lucky stars he was a healer- the guards would be less likely to disbelieve him because of it. _Higgenbottom Syndrome?_ he asked himself. _I need more sleep, clearly_. He heard footsteps in the courtyard outside just as he pulled the proper switch and the statue and pedestal swung away from the wall, revealing a dark, narrow tunnel.

The guard's voice drifted in to him. "Do you need any help, Malfoy? We can't risk you catching it, too."

"No, I'm quite alright," he called in reply. "I was, er, vaccinated," he lied as he shoved Hermione into the tunnel. "Better stay back, soldier!" Then he dove into the tunnel after Hermione. The statue swung back into place just as the guard rounded the corner and the man stood staring down the empty tunnel. The man shrugged and walked back out to his companion.

"That Malfoy sure moves quick," he remarked to his partner.

"Is it any wonder? Would you want to catch Higgenbottom Syndrome?" the other guard asked. "I had a cousin that died from it in two days flat."

Their conversation drifted back to Draco, who was lying on top of Hermione in the darkness and safety of the tunnel. He let out a shuddering sigh and then placed a hand on her face.

"How are you feeling? Can you walk some more?"

"Where are we?" she asked wearily.

"An escape tunnel. One courtesy of my own personal intel. Death Eater free, I promise. Here, let me put that salve on your feet now," he murmured, gathering his robes and getting off of her. He helped her into a sitting position and then lit a very small lantern with _Lumos_.

Hermione watched him as he worked. She was surprised when he took Blaise's robe and offered a set of street clothes in return. "We might need these later," he offered, storing Blaise's things. She only lowered her eyes when he began to change, himself, but she couldn't help noticing the way the dim light played over his muscles and skin. He had a lean, hunted look in his eyes that belied the powerful cut of his body.

"You're really helping me escape," she said softly.

He straightened out the sweater he'd just put on and turned to face her. "Stop dawdling and get changed. Do you need help?"

She shook her head and changed as quickly as she could, slipping on her own sweater as he ministered to her feet. She could feel the salve working almost immediately and thanked him quietly as she pulled on the used sneakers he'd handed her. He lifted his head and looked her in the eyes.

"Thank me when the war is over. Until then, shut up and do as I say."

She clenched her jaw and nodded, biting back the retorts that wanted to force themselves out. There would be time for questions and accusations later. He was right; they were still on Hogwarts' grounds. She wasn't out of harm's way yet. She ran her fingers over the sweater she wore and reveled at the texture of something against her skin that wasn't burlap sack. Suddenly tears came to her eyes.

"What is it? What's the matter?" Draco asked, turning to her.

"This is one of Ginny's sweaters, isn't it?"

Draco ran a hand over his hair and sighed. "And if it is?"

She stared up at him, frustrated and sad. "Don't you have a heart?" she whispered.

He dropped to his knees in front of her and took her by the shoulders. "You're alive, aren't you?" She nodded. "And I've promised to do my best to get you out alive?" She nodded again and he gave her a little shake. "Then don't try and make me feel bad for the things that have happened, that I've had to do. I know perfectly well that I'm a _monster_, Granger, so stop asking questions you already know the answer to."

Hermione swallowed the sob in her throat and stared back at him, unblinking. He finally stood up, satisfied at what he saw and offered her a hand. "Come on. No more dawdling. We have a lot of ground to cover tonight."

She reached up and took his hand and he hauled her to her feet, then stooped to grab the lantern and supply bag. Then, with one final once over of his companion, he took her hand again and began to lead the way down the long, sloping tunnel into darkness. They would still be moving by the dim lantern light hours later as dawn broke, high above ground.

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**AN: Ta-da! More story. Let's see, at this rate the next update should be in...about three months? LOL. I'm such a hack.**


	4. In Which No Lies Are Told, Exactly

**Because I don't own anything, I don't make any money from it. Blaaah. This displeases me.**

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Hermione felt like they'd been walking in the dark for days when the tunnel finally began to slope upwards again. While Draco had very kindly healed her feet, he hadn't done anything for her general fatigue and malaise yet, and she was beginning to wonder if she should be seeing spots that way when he stopped her. He turned around to face her and took her by the shoulders.

"We have to stop here for a bit. It's just afternoon, if my watch is right, and they'll be scouring the country side."

"That's fine," Hermione murmured wearily. "May I sit down?"

Draco began to agree when he stopped and looked at her a little more closely. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm just tired, I think. It's no big deal-"

"You were in prison for four months without proper nutrition, exercise or clothing. You're exhausted. Sit down and I'll get you a potion and some food. Then we can rest for a few hours until sundown."

Rest…the word sounded wonderful to Hermione just then, especially as it would be her first real sleep in months. No chains, no stone floor- the packed earthen floor of the tunnel was heavenly in comparison. She sat down and leaned against the wall, letting her head loll back. Heavenly. Draco set the small lantern down and then joined her on the floor to dig about in his back. He pulled out a couple of bottles and a small package of rations. The corners of her mouth quirked upwards when he returned the package to its normal size. He'd really planned this whole thing out to the letter. It would have been amazing if she had really cared at that moment. As it was, all she wanted to do was sleep, but he was at her side and tipping a bottle into her mouth before she could protest.

"Swallow," he said sternly when she mustered a glare at him. She swallowed and found the ache of her body lessening almost immediately, accompanied by a short burst of energy that spread through her limbs. It gave her enough strength to sit up and regard the meal he'd set out. Bread, cheese, a turkey leg. Some dried fruits.

"Elegant," she remarked. He narrowed his eyes but broke off some of the meat for her and she ate it hungrily.

"Feeling a little better?" he asked after they'd had their fill of things. She nodded and leaned against the wall again. "Good. Try and sleep some. I'll wake you in a few hours. We have a long journey yet once we're out of the tunnel. We'll be walking all night."

She nodded and closed her eyes. Though she was feeling better, the last thing she wanted to do just then was waste energy on questions he wouldn't answer and arguments she wouldn't win.

Draco watched her sleep for a bit, then turned his attention to his papers. He pulled out a well worn map- one he knew like the back of his hand- and looked over it again. There could be no mistakes on this mission. It was his last and it would be his most important.

_No_ mistakes.

Hermione woke to Draco's hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently, and his face next to hers. She started slightly and turned her head, confused at first.

"Where are we…?"

Draco shook his head and stuck the same potion bottle from before under her nose.

"Drink some."

"What? Why?"

"Granger," he said softly. "We're in an escape tunnel, remember? I got you out of Hogwarts last night. You've just been resting. Now drink some."

She let him put the bottle to her lips and tilt it back, felt the liquid warm her as it slid down her throat. She remembered. Ginny was dead, Blaise was dead, Draco was helping her to safety. She sat up a little too quickly and he caught her in his arms.

"Remember?"

She nodded stiffly and pried his arms off her.

"Good. Need something else to eat? No? Okay then, come with me." He tucked the potion back in his bag, picked up the lantern and stood, offering a hand to her. Instead of accepting it right away she levered herself up with both arms this time and he nodded in approval. "Good girl. Ready to go?"

She scowled and nodded. "But I'm not a 'good girl.' Haven't I been called enough demeaning things for a lifetime?"

A strange expression crossed his face and he turned forward. "Sorry. You're right. It'll be Granger from now on." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "I was just trying to sound…encouraging. I didn't mean anything by it."

She met his gaze awkwardly and looked away, continuing to move forward behind him.

"I know," she replied. "Mas- _Blaise_ used to call me that, is all."

"Oh."

The conversation died away after that until they came to what Hermione assumed was the end of the tunnel. Draco turned around and gave her the lantern to hold while he pulled out his wand and braced himself against the stone wall in front of them. He didn't know what would be on the other side; there was no telling if Voldemort's spies had gotten hold of this particular bit of intel yet or not. Nevermind that it _should_ open into a forest, and he didn't know if the local banshee and werewolf population had regenerated itself or not after the last culling by the villagers. He looked back at Hermione.

"If I tell you, run back into the tunnel and don't stop. I'm not sure if anything is going to greet our entrance or not."

Hermione gulped and nodded, gripping the lantern more tightly. Then he began to push against the stone. It slid outward, inch by inch, until there was an opening large enough for him to slip through. Before he could leave, Hermione's hand shot out and she gripped his sweater. He looked back at her, annoyed.

"What?"

Hermione was surprised by her own action and drew her hand back, reluctantly letting go of his sweater. "I just…you're coming back? After you look around?"

He eyed her for a moment and then nodded. "I'm coming back, Granger. Now stay back."

She stepped away, back into the darkness and shielded the lantern light with her body. She watched Draco slip away into the dimly moonlit forest beyond and waited to hear sounds of struggle, fighting, anything. Nothing came and a few minutes later Draco looked back in and held out his hand.

"It's relatively safe, looks like. Come with me and keep the lantern held high. I have to keep my wand out so I can't carry it."

Hermione was going to say something about him having two perfectly good hands when she realized that he wanted to make sure he was holding her hand. It sent a funny feeling up her spine. They must be in an awful lot of danger for Draco Malfoy to not only risk rescuing her and escaping with her, but to also _want _to hold her hand while they were doing it. He didn't need her, after all. She was practically useless. She didn't have a wand, she was still physically and mentally weak, she couldn't even brew a decent potion right now to save her life and the Death Eaters didn't want her for anything other than a sex toy, so he couldn't use her as leverage. It was very, very confusing as to why he'd bothered saving her at all when he could have just as easily bothered saving Ginny or any other number of her companions. She almost said something to him then, but the look on his face was so determined and serious that she was frightened to interrupt his thoughts. Finally, though, after a couple of hours of walking, she got up the nerve to ask him something that had been bothering her since the night before.

"How did she die?" she asked softly.

He looked at her, startled, before turning forward again. "Ginny?"

"Yes, Ginny."

He was quiet for several minutes and she thought he might just ignore her question when he finally spoke again.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully.

"What do you mean you don't-"

"I don't know," he reiterated more firmly. "When I got back to her cell, she was already all…beaten up. I always suspected Blaise had broken in, but he denied it every time. The bastard."

Hermione stopped suddenly, pulling on his hand as she bent over at the waist, gagging. Draco waited patiently for her to finish and pull herself back up.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I probably shouldn't have told you. And I know it was gruesome of me to take the hairs from her, but if you'll forgive my being Slytherin just this once, it was too good an opportunity to waste."

"How can you be sorry-"

"I am sorry!" he roared at her, turning with such speed it made her stumble away from him, though he caught her hand fast. "Don't ever try to tell me I'm not. I hate what they did to all of you! What they're still doing! If I could save all of you-"

"But you can't," she whispered. "So why are you saving me?"

He paled and straightened up, all expression leaving his face. He'd said too much. So he shrugged and smirked a little before facing forward. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he murmured casually.

Hermione watched his face carefully a moment more before turning away and trying to ignore the conflicting emotions she was feeling. Now was not the time to get Stockholm Syndrome.

They reached the outskirts of the woods six hours after leaving the tunnel and Hermione was blinded by the amount of moonlight that spilled over the now open fields. She hid her eyes a minute to let them adjust before she turned to Draco and nodded to move on. He gripped her hand a little more tightly and steered her along the edge of the woods for a while until Hermione could smell wood smoke on the air and saw a lantern light in the distance. As they neared what resolved into a farmhouse, she could see a barn a little ways from the house, which was nestled in a grove of trees on the edge of the forest. When they got close enough, she could also see a hitching post, fences, and a gate or two. The farmhouse looked like it hadn't been brought into the nineteenth century, even, but Draco marched on up to gate and opened it, walking through with Hermione behind him. The whole house was dark, but for a single lantern hanging from the front stoop. Draco walked over and knocked on the door softly.

A voice called out from behind it in a language Hermione didn't understand and Draco answered in the same. There was more silence and then they both heard a latch being moved and the door scraped open slowly. A little woman holding a candlestick greeted them both and ushered them in. She was in a bed gown and nightcap and Hermione boggled until Draco cast a stern glance at her. The little woman laughed and shook her head, taking Hermione's hands and babbling up at her in a cheerful, if tired, voice. Hermione looked up at Draco helplessly.

"Is that- Old English?" she asked incredulously. Draco smirked again and walked away into another room of the house, where Hermione heard sounds of another man speaking the same language. She did her best to communicate with the woman, which involved a lot of smiling and nodding until the woman forced her to sit in a large wooden rocking chair and told her to stay there. Then the woman disappeared into the other room as well. Hermione looked about herself and noticed that there seemed to be a stairwell between the two rooms and, judging by the furniture in this one, she was currently in the parlor. The other room might be the kitchen, then. She shook her head and leaned her head back. The potion Draco kept forcing on her certainly helped her stay on her feet, but it was grueling work, walking all night and she was still so tired. _I'll just shut my eyes for a minute,_ she told herself as she closed them and began to rock back and forth very gently.

When Draco walked back into the room and saw her sleeping, he let out a frustrated sigh. There was no time for sleeping tonight. He needed to talk to her, prepare her for the next leg of the journey. She would probably be more prepared than he was, as she was a muggle, but this particular muggle world was a bit different than the one she knew in cozy London with dear old mum and dad. The old woman shook her head and put her hand on his arm.

"Let her rest, poor thing," she told him in her native tongue.

"Aye, there will be time enough for talk tomorrow. You know which room to use. Mama and I are going to bed now. Good night, William," the father murmured from behind him.

Draco nodded and shook hands with the man, watching as the older couple wandered up the stairs together. Then he walked over to Hermione and bent over, sliding his arms beneath her and hefting her up. She stirred a little, but did not wake up. Draco smiled a bit and then followed the couple up the stairs. He hoped vehemently that Hermione would not mind the name he'd chosen for her: Susan. Names like Draco and Hermione were simply too out of the ordinary. They'd be spotted a mile away for what they were if they used their real names.

Ah well. There'd be time enough tomorrow to explain things. For now, the woman was right. She deserved to sleep in a bed again. It was the least he could do, for all the lies he was telling her.

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**AN: Ta-da! More cookies, please, or I withhold the next chapter. And don't think I won't do it... (evil plotting ensues)**


	5. In Which Draco Loses His Temper

Hermione woke up to Draco shaking her by the shoulders. At first she pulled away from him, startled and confused until she remembered the events of the day before. His eyes were…kind. She looked up at him warily, pulling the blanket tightly up about her neck.

"Draco," she murmured. "How did I- where are we again?"

"You're in bed. I carried you up after you fell asleep last night. Are you alright? How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," she said softly, sitting up slowly as he straightened up, standing back from the bed. She took in the room about her- it looked like the crawl space of an attic and she could see a small door to one side the must lead out across the attic floor to the stairs. So, they were at the top of the house. And the couple? She looked at Draco questioningly and he tossed her some clothes. It was then she noticed that he was dressed differently- in very old fashioned clothes- pants, a long sleeved, simple shirt and a tunic.

"Change. Bring your things down with you once you're done and I'll put them away. Hurry. We don't have all morning. I'll explain more over breakfast," he said quickly before he disappeared out the small door. Hermione stared after him only a second longer before she decided to do as she was told. Merlin, but it had felt good to sleep in a bed for once. She cringed as she held up the clothes he'd given her, however. Well, at least the long skirt and full blouse would be comfortable, even if she had to wear a bodice with it. And it came with a thick, woolen shawl, too. Thank Heaven for small mercies.

When she got downstairs, she handed Draco her clothes first thing and then looked up to find her hosts staring at her kindly. From the front window, she could see the sun was just coming over the horizon. It looked like a clear, cool day outside and she felt her spirits rise despite herself. The woman walked over to her, mumbling in that same antiquated tongue and forced Hermione into a seat next to Draco before putting a plate with some bread, meat and eggs before her. She looked from the plate to the woman, smiling her thanks before digging in. Draco looked at her approvingly as she fed herself.

"How are your feet?" he asked.

"Fine, I told you," she mumbled around a mouthful of bread.

"Good. We won't be walking the whole way into town. Eric here will be taking us part way to a local farmer's market. Greta has packed us some more supplies." He broke off to speak to them in their native tongue and Hermione watched, perplexed.

"Why do you know Old English?"

He looked back at her, an easy smile on his face. "Death Eaters know a lot of useless things."

Hermione blanched and went back to her food. "Please tell them how grateful I am," she murmured after a few moments of quiet chewing. Draco smiled again and turned back to the couple. The woman responded immediately and walked back to Hermione, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She babbled on a bit and Draco smirked. "What?" Hermione asked. "What did she say?"

"She said that she was happy to do anything to help the woman I've decided to settle down with. Family is very important, she said. She just hopes that all the stress of our escape does not damage your chances of conceiving."

Hermione stiffened, a look of horror on her face and Draco immediately leaned forward. "I told them nothing of the sort, Hermione. But look, they have to believe what they want. It will help our cover. Now finish your breakfast and I'll explain the rest, alright? Be a good-" he broke off suddenly and leaned back, an apology on his lips.

Hermione looked at him, a strange expression on her own face. "No, it's…fine. Look, I'm hurrying." She swallowed the rest of her food and then gulped at her milk to wash it all down as quickly as possible. Great was still beaming at her, a conspiratorial smile on her face and Hermione resisted the urge to gag. Have children with Draco? Never. She'd rather die first, even if he was saving her life. Not that she had a life worth saving anymore.

Over the course of the next ten minutes, Draco took her aside in the parlor- well, what could be called a parlor- and explained things to her as best he could.

"So we're in some kind of time warp?" Hermione asked, her quick mind still slowed by the months spent in captivity.

"As far as I can tell. I've only ever been on this trail once before. But we won't be in here for long. It only lasts as far as the main town and from there is another tunnel- a doorway, really- that leads back into our world. But it's still rural country. Estates and things like that. Just keep your head down and your shawl up and stick to your name and our story and we'll be fine."

"Susan? And we're what? Engaged? Cousins?"

"Whatever makes you most comfortable."

"Cousins," she settled on.

"Fine," he acknowledged. "Let me do all the talking. You're my deaf, dumb cousin whom I take care of and I'm leading you to an arranged marriage. Eric has a chest for the dowry and travel duties just for this occasion and he's going to let us borrow it one last time."

Hermione snorted. "Fine. Just get me the hell out of here. Where are you leading me to, anyway?"

Draco stood up and stared at her hard. "Don't ask more questions than is good for you, Granger."

"Yes, but why are you going to so much trouble about this in the first place? If we're in a time warp then Voldemort doesn't exist here-"

"He exists everywhere!" Draco hissed at her, dropping to his knees before her and gripping her shoulders tightly. "Do you think he doesn't have access to time travel? Do you think he hasn't brought minions back and forth across those lines already, searching for the biggest and best monsters to use as weapons? Stop playing dumb and think with that pretty head of yours, Granger! You were confined and tortured, not lobotomized!"

Hermione went silent and very pale at his words and Draco let go of her shoulders suddenly, rocking back on his heels. "Merlin, Granger- I…I'm not sorry if what I said makes you snap out of whatever it is you're going through, but I'm trying very hard to be patient with you. I know what it's like, being chained up by those monsters. I know it wasn't easy or nice and I shouldn't be so hard on you."

Hermione didn't say anything, just stared ahead of herself mutely, processing what Draco had said. She was shaken by it, very deeply. No wonder Harry hadn't been able to do him in. If Voldemort was time traveling…there was no telling where the last horcrux was. What it was. If only she'd thought of that! If only she'd known! And the worst part was, she should have guessed. After all, hadn't one of the horcruxes been that diary? The one that had produced a Tom Riddle from so long ago? Of course that had been the answer all along…but how was she to know? And what could she do about it now? She didn't have a time turner anymore. Did she? Did Harry? Was Harry even still alive? She hadn't even bothered to ask Draco the questions that should have mattered the most. Draco was right, she concluded silently, dolefully. She did need to snap out of it. Her imprisonment had almost done what they'd wanted it do- broken her for good. Made her no use to anyone. Well, not anymore. She looked back at Draco finally, her eyes watery with unshed tears, but the line of her mouth hard.

"No," she said. "You're absolutely right. I hate you- I don't know if I'll ever stop hating you, but I need to work with you now. If there's to be any point to this escape- if it even is an escape…"

Draco sighed and nodded. "It's an escape, alright, Granger. Hate me or not, you just have to trust me on that one."

Hours later, after exchanging final good byes with Greta and thanking Eric one last time, Draco helped Hermione off the cart and then pulled the trunk down after her. Eric lifted a hand to them both before turning the cart around and starting back in the direction they'd come. Hermione looked at Draco, who was hefting the box up into his arms. It was a small trunk, so that he could carry it by himself, but large enough to proclaim some affluence, however small it was. Hermione glanced about her curiously. She looked at Draco to watch his move and he nodded at her to follow him. They started down the main street of the small market they were in and seemed to blend right in until they made it to a stall where several cows and horses were being held. Hermione did her best to look stupid and mild and even pet one of the cows while Draco haggled with the owner for price. She leaned forward and kissed the cow on the nose, whispering pretty nothings to it until she noticed a small boy staring at her strangely. She stared back at the boy until he picked up a hunk of meat on the end of a knife and bit into it. It was clearly beef and Hermione looked from the cow back to the boy and then blanched before she scurried back to Draco's side.

He gave her a look of mild interest as the owner of the stall leered at her. Draco patted her on the shoulder. "Alright, Susan?" he yelled at her in Old English and Hermione stared at him blankly before quite deliberately picking her nose. Draco covered a snort of laughter with a coughing fit and turned back to the owner, who was looking only a little disgusted.

Well, Hermione thought, it is only the 1300s at best, isn't it? I suppose nose picking was the least of their worries when it came to women.

Draco jerked her from her thoughts with another hand on her arm. "We have a horse," he yelled at her and she smiled prettily at the owner before letting a little drool slide from her mouth. The owner turned away, shaking his head and Draco let out a soft laugh.

"Merlin, Granger. That's disgusting."

"Isn't that the point?" she hissed at him. "Just playing the deaf and dumb cousin being married off for more cash."

"Right. Look, you can ride on the horse with the trunk and the bundle from Greta. Come on, up you go," he said, giving her a leg up after settling a blanket down on the creature's back. The horse looked like it had seen better days, but neither Hermione or Draco cared much. It was cheap and would get them all the way into town, to their next destination and they were soon passing out of the market and were back on the main road.

Hermione looked about herself curiously as she rode. Draco kept up a swift walk beside the horse.

"So this is what England looked like all that time ago," she mused.

"That's right," Draco replied evenly.

"Do you know where we are?" she asked. "I mean, where this is supposed to be?"

Draco looked up at her, surprised. "It's definitely England, not Scotland, where the castle is located. I've been trying to figure out exactly where, but since I haven't been out here very often, I can't say for certain. Escape has been the primary goal, not figuring out where that tunnel leads to. And the other door doesn't come out in the same spot, that much is certain."

Hermione looked at him speculatively. After a few moments she spoke again.

"You talk as though you've helped people escape more than once."

Draco grit his teeth, but managed to keep his shoulders from stiffening. "What makes you think that?"

"You've been out here more than once. More than twice, even. So you've either helped more escapes or this is actually a Death Eater mission. Which is it? Did Voldemort think that I could be useful and Blaise wasn't breaking me quickly enough so they thought, why not get the bee with some honey?"

Draco yanked on the reins of the horse and pulled them up short. He glared up at her.

"You listen to me, Hermione. Listen good. I've already told you once not to ask too many questions. I'm glad you're feeling more like yourself, but there are some things I cannot tell you."

"You won't tell me," she retorted.

"Can't," he ground out. "Can't, because if you know too much and we get caught, more than one person's life will be in danger because of it. Now, unless you've had Occlumency lessons without my knowledge, then the only person fit to defend such information is myself. So shut up and stop asking me things you don't want to know the answers to."

Hermione sat back from his verbal assault and returned his glare, but she was no match for his icy gray eyes and she finally looked away. "Fine," she muttered.

"No, not fine, Granger," he replied. "I don't really care whether you're happy with me or hate me or even trust me right now. But I need to know that you'll at least do what the fuck I tell you to do. Now look me in the eye and promise me you'll take orders. So help me, Granger, I will use my Legilimency on you if I have to in order to ensure not only your safety, but that of a whole host of others." He continued to glare up at Hermione and she finally looked back down at him. His face was so serious, so world weary and fierce that she felt her lower lip begin to tremble.

"Okay, I promise," she finally bit off, spitting the words at him to hide her own fear.

"Thank you," he murmured, relaxing his grip on the reins, letting the tension fall from his shoulders. "Thank you."

With that, he turned his attention back to the road ahead of them. Hermione kept her hands wound tightly in the horse's mane and stared mutely ahead of herself, no longer interested in the scenery. Instead, she felt an overwhelming anger with Draco bubbling up inside. But that wasn't what frightened her. What frightened her was that her curiosity for the situation was overriding her anger. And she suspected that whatever shades of gray Draco and his family had already entered into, that Draco was blurring them even further. The question was, to what ends? And how was she involved in his plans?

* * *

**AN: Cookie, please. :) More will be explained in a couple of chapters, but we have to have some filler for our intrepid heroes, right? **


	6. In Which Hermione Suspects Things

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and don't make any money from this (then why am I writing it?)!**

* * *

Hermione felt a hand on her thigh, gripping her leg, shaking it and she snapped awake with a soft noise of surprise. She found herself staring in Draco's eyes for the third or fourth time in two days and shook her head, lifting it and looking about herself.

"Are we at the city?" she asked, confused. Draco shook his head and lifted a hand to her. "We're stopping here. There's a band of travelers coming towards us on the road and I don't want to meet them. Come on, I'll help you dismount. Then we can get further back into the brush and trees here. They'll provide good cover."

Hermione gazed at the trees Draco was gesturing towards and accepted his help to slide off the horse. Then she followed him as he led them further from the side of the road. Once they could no longer see the road clearly, he tied the horse's lead to a tree branch and then crept forwards again, back to the road. Hermione yanked on his sleeve.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, worried.

"I want to see who it is," he answered. "We need to know what's going on in the city and I may be able to catch a word or two as they pass."

"Why not cast a spell?" she asked, curious.

"Granger," he said, raising an eyebrow disbelievingly. "Honestly, I thought you'd regained your powers of reason."

Hermione glared at him, but he let her kneel in the bushes next to him and she settled in beside him comfortably. Of course he wouldn't cast a spell. There were witches and wizards back in the day, too, not just in modern times. So there was always the chance that the travelers would notice if he cast a spell. Not to mention that the magic might be especially noticeable, since it would be modern and not ancient. There were too many variables for him to safely cast a spell at this point. Maybe once he found out what was going on in the city or had gotten a handle on the travelers, then he might cast a spell. But until he knew more, it wasn't safe. Hermione thought this through carefully while she watched Draco watch the road. He looked tired, she thought. Maybe she should walk some and he could ride. Then again, he'd been a complete gentleman about her condition and their escape, aside from losing his temper and the whole Ginny thing, so he probably wouldn't agree to it. But he _did _look tired and tense and she wondered how long he would last. He'd been doing all the work so far, not to mention carrying the burden of information. Dreadful information, according to him (she believed him on that count). Not that she trusted him completely, either, but it wasn't hard to believe that he had seen terrible things. And he had told her the truth about Ginny, she felt certain. He'd actually felt bad about it, for whatever reason. Felt bad that a blood traitor had died…thinking of Ginny made her choke up a bit and she looked away from him, wiping hastily at her eyes when he turned his head to look at her.

"Why are you staring at me, Granger- oh. Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying," she said, embarrassed. She didn't like crying, didn't like doing it in front of people like him, but it was partly his fault she was feeling this way to begin with, wasn't it? She felt herself growing defensive. "Besides, why does it matter? Don't I have plenty to cry about?"

His face softened again and he put a hand on her shoulder. "I suppose you do and…I'm sorry for it. But we don't have time to cry now. Got to keep quiet." His head whipped around towards the road and his hand tightened on her shoulder. "Here they come," he whispered. "Stay down."

He pushed on her shoulder, pressing her towards the ground, keeping his own head barely higher than hers so he could see over the brush. Hermione could hear the travelers approaching, their horses making a great deal of noise as though they were spooked about something. The people were murmuring amongst themselves and she thought she heard the sounds of wagon wheels, too. It sounded like a large entourage and she wondered where they were from and what their story was.

Bits and pieces of conversation drifted over the hedge to them and Draco stiffened.

"Who is this Dark Lord, anyway? Who's he to set up like he's the bloody king?"

"Keep your mouth shut or we'll be next. We barely escaped the city with our lives this time. Thank God he didn't want our horses. Did you see what happened to Fletcher when he stood up to him?"

"Aye, vanished in smoke. Damned confusing."

Draco jerked, rustling the bushes at the reference to Voldemort and dark magic. So, either he was here personally or had sent a minion. Unfortunate it was the same part of England their escape route went through, but perhaps it wasn't accidental. The wizard had all sorts of false prophets and seers on his staff, now. Perhaps he had inside knowledge, finally. Good thing it was his last trip, then. Hermione tugged on his arm and he turned to look at her, unwittingly rustling the bushes again.

"Who is it?" she whispered. "What are they saying?"

He put a finger to his lips and motioned at her to stay down again when the riders paused.

"Did you hear that?"

"Squirrels."

"Damned big squirrels," replied the other voice. Draco heard the horse approaching the hedgerow they were concealed in and felt his heart seize up. They were going to be caught. Damn, damn, damn- his thoughts shut down as he felt Hermione's arms grasp his shoulders and he suddenly found her lips smashed against his. It took his barely a second to realize what she was doing, but it didn't make him feel any better about it. Kissing and pretending they were taking a roll in the hay was good cover, but it wasn't fair to her. He tried to pry her arms away and she tightened her grip about him like a vice. And then her mouth opened against his and her tongue slid out and he reacted badly.

He jerked against her in surprise before he wrapped his arms about her and toppled them both over to the forest floor, his mouth coming open with a gasp. He moved his tongue about hers and had pressed himself against her, pushing his hips down into hers before he remembered what they were doing, who he was with. With an audible groan he levered himself up on his arms so he wasn't crushing her and moved his mouth from her lips to her jaw and neck, drawing little gasps of surprise from her. He couldn't tell if they were real or fake and he didn't care. He was kissing Hermione Granger to save their lives and he wasn't sure he minded. He wasn't sure she minded, for that matter. Her arms were still wrapped about him tightly and she was pushing her hips against his with little, writhing motions that he was finding extremely distracting.

Luckily for the both of them, their ruse worked. They heard the branches part above them and a snort of disgust come from the man's lips.

"Looks like some travelers couldn't wait for an inn," a voice called and Draco stilled a few seconds later, turning his head towards the sound in what he hoped was an appropriately frightened manner. Neither of them were dressed very well, they both looked plain…their disguises should hold up, pass scrutiny. But only when the branches snapped back into place did he relax his shoulders.

Only to tense them again a moment later when the other traveler replied, "Oh? Anything worth investigating, ourselves?"

"No, she looks about as appealing as horse shit," the other man laughed and the horses eventually continued on their way.

"You should have told them not to go to the city," drifted back to them, but the reply was lost to the wind and Draco finally moved from his place, rolling off of Hermione and resting on his back for a moment, hoping to god that Hermione would be too stunned and worried to notice his…friend. He was thoroughly ashamed of himself; he'd never taken advantage of the prisoners that way. The most he'd done was _pretend_ to neck with Ginny, when he'd had to. Sex wasn't so hard to fake when your life depended on it, after all. But this had been real, and elicited real responses from him. Perhaps simply because it had been so long for him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd lain with a woman. No, that was a lie. He remembered exactly. Astoria Greengrass, right before the battle for Hogwarts. Right before she'd been killed.

It hadn't meant anything and he'd regretted it ever since, only because now when he thought of the last time he'd had sex, memories of her bloody and torn body rose to mind immediately after.

"Draco," Hermione breathed next to him, drawing him from his memories.

"Yeah?" he asked, not looking at her.

"Shouldn't we be going?"

"Yeah," he agreed and stood up, putting out a hand and pulling her up as well before he trudged back into the woods and retrieved the horse. Neither of them apologized and neither demanded apology. They'd done what they'd had to do.

After a time, Draco spoke.

"We'll have to get rid of the horse before we reach the city. We want to attract-"

"As little attention as possible, yeah. I thought you would say that," Hermione replied quietly. "Thank you for letting me ride it for now, though."

Draco gave a short nod and glanced up at her. She didn't look well; he could see how the other men would equate her with horse shit. Her face was gaunt, drawn, and her skin didn't have good color after being in the dark for so long. Her hair lacked the luster it normally held and her eyes were, while undoubtedly more awake than they had looked in ages, still glassy and red around the edges. Four months of tears and hard torture could do that to a person. Still, kissing her had been the best thing that had happened to him in months and right then, she was the prettiest girl he'd seen. He tore his eyes away from her and continued to watch the road. It would do neither of them any good if he began imagining feelings for her now.

* * *

The sun was just setting when the path began to rise steeply before them and Draco drew the horse away from the main road and off, down a little dirt path. Before long Hermione saw a small stable and cottage and Draco helped her dismount, removing the chest and bags before he took the horse up to the house. She stood away from the enclosure, staring up through the darkening trees of the hillside to the walls of the city. All she could see from below was wood and stone and the flash of watch fires. She shivered lightly in the descending gloom and jumped when Draco put a hand on her shoulder.

"Time to go up," he said and she nodded at him. She took the chest in both arms and held it before her and Draco slung both bags across his back with one arm. In the other, he held a torch. "Follow me," were the last words he said on the climb up steep road.

They were passed by some carts and other travelers on horse, and as they gained ground Hermione could see other travelers going on foot, like themselves. They were a diverse group, but the one thing Hermione didn't remark on was the number of travelers going in the opposite direction- away from the city. As they neared the gates, Draco threw up both their hoods and marched in beside a merchant's cart, after quickly tossing their bags on the very back of the wagon. He threw Hermione's cloak about the chest and they walked right into the city past the guards without a second glance from anyone. Once they were past the gates, Draco tugged their bags from the back of the cart and saluted the merchant before turning down a side street.

Hermione eyed him, impressed, and he cast an annoyed glance in her direction. "Stay close," he barked out. "And stop staring at me that way. You want people to notice us?"

"All they'll see when they look at me is a slightly crazed mute," she murmured.

He didn't reply and pushed open a door further down the street. Without another backward glance or word, Hermione stepped in after him and Draco finally extinguished the torch and put down their baggage. The room was in darkness for a moment and Hermione felt her heart speed up before candles all around the room suddenly came to life.

She blinked rapidly at their brightness and reached out a hand, feeling for Draco. He shifted closer so she found his arm and she gripped it tightly.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

"A safe house," he replied. His hand closed over hers and squeezed it lightly. "Don't get too comfortable, though."

"That's right," came another man's voice. "This won't be a safe house for much longer, I'm afraid."

Hermione clutched Draco's arm more tightly, her head whipping around. Was this friend or foe? He had to be from their time, he wasn't speaking the old, mangled language everyone else was. She could understand him, for one. She felt Draco turn around, gently prying her hand away.

"It's alright, Granger. You know him."

The other man stopped short of them both and stared at her, jaw open in shock.

"Is it really her? Merlin, Malfoy, is this why you didn't say anything?"

"Couldn't say anything," he corrected the other man. "And yes, it's her. Now, tell me what the hell is going on here- I heard rumors on the road-"

"Yes, in a minute, Malfoy. Just…shut up let me greet our Hermione, will you?"

And with that, Charlie Weasley threw his arms about Hermione and lifted her up in the biggest bear hug she'd received in years. She heard a strange choking noise and realized she was crying and then Charlie put her down and drew her over to a chair and set a mug of something down in front of her and continued to say the most wonderful things to her, about Harry and Ron and how they'd all worried she was dead and how glad he was to see her. Harry and Ron, alive? News of all her friends? It was too much. She grasped at the mug and brought it to her lips again and again and Charlie refilled it at least twice before she managed to calm herself. Draco stood nearby, propped against a wall, watching her with a careful expression. As if he thought she might break at any minute. She looked back to Charlie.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asked.

"Dragons, what else? When _he_ finally got wind of us having dragons on the other side, he decided he wanted some, too. But he couldn't get any from our time to join him, so he decided to go back a few hundred years and draw from this population. Only trouble with that is it started to mess with things- environmentally speaking, ecologically…screwed with our populations and a whole host of other magical creatures. So, I'm on mission here to stop him taking these ones too. Even one kill from this century can affect generations in the future. It's a terrible problem."

"I can see how it would be," Hermione admitted. "Dragons are the only things that prey on certain other species, aren't they?"

"That's right. Merlin, it's good to see they didn't steal the brain right out of you, Hermione. And this one-" he jerked his head in Draco's direction, "-is he treating you alright?"

Hermione looked over at him, her eyes serious as she scanned his face. He returned her scrutiny calmly and understanding passed between them. She looked back at Charlie.

"I owe him my life," she said.

He gave a low whistle and filled her mug one last time. "I bet you do. A lot more than you can say that now-"

"That's enough, Weasley," Draco interrupted the older wizard harshly. "I don't need her asking questions _I_ wouldn't tell her the answer to." It was a warning and Charlie took it as such. He leaned away from the small table and gestured to the stairs behind them.

"I understand. Well, beds are upstairs, as is some water and soap, if you want it. Though you'll blend in better if you smell. Get a few hours. I'll be down here."

"Go up, Granger. I have to speak with Weasley. Privately," Draco added.

Hermione nodded and sighed, resigned to the fact that she'd get no more answers tonight. She gave Charlie one more hug before she left the room. "Oh, Charlie," she whispered to him, her head buried in his neck. "I'm so sorry about Ginny. I'm so, so sorry." She felt him stiffen at her friend's, his sister's name and pulled away. "I'm sorry I brought it up," she began, but he waved a hand, his face unreadable.

"It's alright," he replied gruffly. "Now go up. I'll see you in the morning."

She nodded, letting her arms drop, but paused on the stairs up as she heard the two men start to speak.

"She looks terrible," Charlie said.

"Be glad she's alive," Draco replied. As an afterthought he added, "Blaise is dead for it."

"Good," Charlie replied fiercely. Hermione felt herself flush, knowing he was glad for both her and Ginny's sake. "It's about time. I can see you really did up this last one right, didn't you? Saving the best for last?"

"I didn't have a choice but to wait-" Draco began, but Charlie's calming tones interrupted him.

"I know, I know. No one is blaming you. Maybe you ought to stop blaming yourself. I'm just pointing out that it says something, what you've done."

"Says something? I'm saving my own skin as much as hers at this point. There were others still down there," he added quietly.

"There's no point thinking about it now, is there? This is war. More terrible than anything we could have imagined. What I want to know," he said, his voice thoughtful, "is why you haven't told her the truth."

"She doesn't need to know the truth."

"Why not? Ginny-"

"The truth is that I failed her!" Draco burst out, covering up Charlie's words. "I failed all of them! The best I could do for any of them was a dangerous last run in the dark and they didn't even all make it out alive from that, did they? I left her in there to rot for four months because I wasn't smart enough to figure out how to get her out sooner, for Christ's sake!" Self-loathing dripped from every syllable and Hermione covered her mouth, stifling a quiet sob of sympathy and sorrow.

So that was how he felt. He hated himself for saving lives the only way he could, if what Charlie said was to be believed. But he was only one man, and a young one at that, working against an entire army of psychopaths and murderers. She turned back, one foot poised to descend again and go to him, tell him it was alright, that she was beyond help the minute she'd been captured- they all were- when the stairs creaked. She stilled immediately, but heard footsteps cross the first floor.

"Granger?" Draco called. He approached the foot of the stairs and looked up, but all he heard were light steps pounding up the remaining stairs. A second later, the upstairs door slammed closed.

"Damn it!" Draco swore and turned back to Charlie. "Look what you've done!"

The older man regarded him sadly. "She'll find out eventually. What do you think you're protecting her from?"

"I'm not protecting her," Draco bit out. "I'm protecting myself. And all of the others…" his voice trailed off as he turned and looked up the stairs again, peering into the shadows. "It's the same reason no one else coming through knew all the details. You know the drill."

"But you're the last. Wouldn't it be alright, in this instance-"

"No. Let her have Potter and his sidekick. That's enough to get her through the next few days, no matter how awful they are and it's nothing _he_ doesn't already know. But that's it. I mean it. She's the worst of the lot, Weasley, can't you see that? She wouldn't last a second if she were captured."

Charlie sighed and refilled Hermione's mug for Draco. "I understand. No tattling on you, I promise. You're probably right, anyway."

"Thank you," Draco replied quietly. "Now, tell me what's going on here. We have to make it to the other tunnel tomorrow, however we can."

Charlie nodded and leaned forward on the table. "Sit down. It'll take some doing, but I think I know how to work it…"

* * *

**AN: I demand cookies, all around. I thought this one was rather good...not as good as future chapters (oh, I can't wait for the drama!), but decent. You know.**


	7. In Which Draco Cares a Bit Too Much

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, okay? No money here, nope. None. :(**

* * *

Hermione was lying awake in the dark, upstairs room, when she heard the stairs creaking and the door being opened. She was lying on her side, facing away from the door, but she knew it was Draco. She'd been watching him so carefully and in such close company with him the last three days there was no way she wouldn't recognize his footfall. She wondered what that said about her for a brief moment and decided it simply meant she was getting back to her old self. If that part of her could ever truly be regained. She'd been crying softly to herself the last twenty minutes and she prayed Draco hadn't heard her. The last thing she wanted from him was another glance of pity, when he was the one who so clearly deserved her pity.

At least now, however, she had some answers, even if Charlie had unwittingly given them up. This was a proper escape mission and apparently Draco had been running the operation for months, with the Order's help. It gave her a strange feeling, to know that all the times she'd seen him walk down the stairs and past her cell it really had been to help others. Those bodies she'd seen him carrying weren't always corpses.

She felt another sob clutch up in her throat and she held it back so that only a strangled whine slipped past her lips. The other figure now in the room stopped its motions and then she heard him shut the door hastily and cross the small space to her bedroll.

"Granger?" came his voice, so softly she barely heard it. Then he laid a hand gently on her shoulder and squeezed it. "I'm sorry you had to hear that," he admitted, his voice a little gruffer.

She didn't respond and closed her eyes again. She was sure this situation was embarrassing for both of them. She'd been thinking nothing but ill thoughts of him the entire time he'd been thinking the same things of himself, and why? Because he couldn't save them all? Did he honestly think she would hate him when she found out, just because of something like Ginny (although that did hurt more than she'd prepared herself for); or because he technically could have gotten her out earlier if he'd been willing to lose a few more prisoners? The thought was hard to swallow, that the whole time she and her friends had hated him he had hated himself. Had wanted to get out, but couldn't because if he'd left earlier he wouldn't be able to save anyone.

It was a strange situation to be in, to say the least…and now the hand on her shoulder was moving up to her face, brushing her hair back and making soothing motions across her back. "I wish I could sleep the way you do," he whispered. "Maybe once you're safe, I will."

Then the hand left her and she heard him get up and cross back over to his own bedroll. She listened to him settle on it and waited for his breathing to even out. When it didn't, she rolled over and searched the darkness for him.

"Draco?" she whispered, voice still full of tears. He turned towards her immediately and she felt a hand brush her own before taking and holding it.

"I'm here," he replied, not surprised that she was awake after all. In fact, she heard no traces of the emotions his voice had held a second ago; the only thing that kept her grounded to his feelings was the warm hand that now held hers so tenderly. "Are you ill? Do you need something?"

"No, I- just…can you keep holding my hand?" she asked him, her voice unsteady.

His grip tightened briefly in response and they each continued to lie awake, hands stretched to one another, until sleep eventually overtook them.

* * *

After what seemed like barely fifteen minutes of rest, but had actually been a few hours, Charlie knocked on the door. Draco woke up first and glanced to his right, startled at the companion on his bedroll. Hermione had somehow made her way across to him during the night and she was snugged up against him, their hands still clasped, one arm across his chest and one of his about her shoulders. Frowning, he gently extracted her from him and deposited her back on her own pallet before her opened the door.

"Time to move?"

Charlie nodded and looked past him to Hermione. "Is she alright?"

"She will be. Is there any food left?"

"Yeah, come downstairs when you're ready."

Draco nodded and moved back to Hermione, shaking her gently. She awoke with a start and coughed a few times before she looked up at Draco blearily. At the look in his eyes, she immediately gathered her things and stood up.

"Come on. We're going to eat- you'll take some more potions? Good. Then we're leaving. We have to get across the city to the small chapel they have here. They're working on expanding it into a cathedral and in the process they uncovered what they don't realize is the other portal through. It's a tunnel, just like the last. So tell me if you need extra potions for your feet and legs. I tried to spare you them as much as possible yesterday."

"I'll be fine," she murmured. "Just give me what you have."

When they got downstairs, Charlie was setting out some bowls of what looked vaguely like bread and cold stew. Hermione didn't care at this point, she ate what she was given and drank the potions and then waited for the two men to finish their discussion.

"You know I'd go with you if I could," Charlie began and Hermione glanced at him, curious.

"You're not coming?"

"I have to stay here for a while- we have another safe house elsewhere in the city, but I'm getting too recognizable. We have to wait for _his _minions to pass through this city before I dare wander out. Shame, truly. The dragons need my help badly right now. I _must _get out of the city to reach them. It was fine a few months ago; I could come and go as I needed to. But his minions are staying put and it's making my movements difficult."

Hermione nodded, not quite understanding, but still too tired to care. She looked at Draco, who eyed her in return.

"Speaking of being recognizable…" he said. "I'm afraid we have to put on…costumes, you might say."

"What, roll around in the mud a bit?"

"Actually, yeah. I don't want to use the Polyjuice if we don't have to."

"I understand," she replied, then looked to Charlie. "Do you have supplies?"

In a few minutes she and Draco looked like two desperately poor serfs who were making their yearly pilgrimage into the city to see the chapel. She put down the stick of clay and surveyed her work. Draco smiled, revealing some blackened teeth and she stifled a giggle. Well, at least they could laugh at themselves. That was something.

Charlie saw them off at the door, careful to keep his face in the shadows and gave Hermione one last hug before she left. She stood outside on the street, clearing her head and taking deep breaths of the smelly, sooty air of the city while the two men exchanged final words. What was taking them so long? She turned about, wanting to leave this sad, dangerous place as quickly as possible and stared hard at them, one hand on her hip.

Draco and Charlie were speaking in very hushed tones and then they clasped hands. Draco moved as if to pull away, but Charlie grasped his hand more tightly and then pulled the other wizard into a hug as well. When Draco came away, he exchanged a long, silent look with Charlie and finally turned away. She watched the door close as Draco picked his way over to her across the muddy street.

"What was that?" she asked, but Draco didn't reply, only tied their now much smaller bag about his waist. It was the original, charmed bag he'd had at the start of their journey.

"You're supposed to be mute, remember?" he told her and she stared at him hard, but shut her mouth in a grim line anyway.

* * *

After a few minutes of picking their way around the nasty streets and cobbled together buildings- of course, Hermione thought, all the rich people lived in manor estates in the surrounding countryside- they arrived in what might be called the square. There were stalls all around the large space and it reminded her of the market they had passed on their way to the city the day before.

Draco took her hand and held it tightly as he led her through the maze of stalls to get to the chapel, which was surrounded by scaffolding. She looked up at the towers that were already being constructed in awe. The marvels man had created without ever using magic…for a brief moment she reveled in pride of her muggle heritage. Then she found herself being tugged even further forward and before she could catch herself, she tripped and fell.

With a squawk she looked up in time to see Draco turn around and lunge for her before she toppled to the ground right in front of what appeared to be a very expensive set of fur boots. Right into a mud puddle, causing said mud to splash all over said boots. Causing the owner of said boots to, well. It was the very disaster Draco had hoped to avoid and he felt his heart leap into his throat.

The owner of the boots was wearing a long black cloak and looked about as Death Eater-like as someone could in that age without actually wearing the matching mask. Draco's heart plummeted back to his stomach and he immediately fell forward beside Hermione, muttering apologies in Old English as fast as he could spit them out and gathering Hermione back into his arms before he brought them both to their feet again, bowing low before the man. The man sneered and Draco suddenly realized he recognized him.

It was Lestrange. It was his own uncle-in-law and Draco suddenly felt very sure there was no way the man couldn't recognize him. There was no way they were getting out of this…but he kept up the pretense anyway, because of the shaking girl in his arms. He couldn't risk Hermione. He had to keep up the act no matter how terrified he was. He would _die _for her and the realization of that hit him just as hard as anything else in that moment had. So, quaking inside and out, he held his subservient pose and hoped the coal making his blond locks black and the mud and stubble marring his pale, narrow face would suffice for cover. Hermione's hair was tangled, knotted and partially covered and her face was also suitably covered in dirt…not to mention no one aside from himself and Blaise had seen her in months, so the gaunt look of her features would make her less recognizable.

Lestrange looked, not at them, but at his boots. He lifted first one, then the other and sniffed derisively.

"I should have you whipped," he said casually, but his eyes passed over them again without stopping. He was clearly on some kind of mission, sent as a look-out. Draco could only guess at who he was looking for. If Voldemort knew about the escape tunnel at Hogwarts, then he and Hermione were on the list; if not, then he was probably looking for Charlie.

Draco had an idea.

"Is there anything I can do to make up for it, my liege?" he asked, still groveling. He felt Hermione tremble violently and squeezed her shoulders.

Lestrange snorted. "As if _you_ could help _me._" But his face grew thoughtful a moment later and he took a closer look at them.

"You are traveling?"

"Making a pilgrimage, my lord. My wife and I have brought all we can spare to make an offering."

"Did you notice anything unusual on your way here? Dragon activity?"

"Dragons, lord?" Draco lifted his head a little, a scared expression on his face. "Aye, we have. They have been plaguing us in the far country."

Lestrange's face changed immediately, became eager. "Indeed? And where is that?"

"West of the city by many miles, my lord, just outside the Howling Forest."

"The Howling Forest?"

"Banshees, my Lord."

Lestrange looked disgruntled for a moment before he recovered and sniffed again. "Very well. And what is your name, Serf?"

"William, Lord. This is my wife, Susan."

"And the name of your…home?" The Death Eater said it so distastefully that Draco felt sure his tongue would shrivel up from the effort at civility.

"Reardon Under-Hill, Lord." Draco felt terrible saying it, but he knew that Eric and Greta had seen the likes of Lestrange before. Their modest homestead was far enough away from the community he'd named that they would be fine. Not to mention that the community in question was in the throes of a plague at the moment. There was nothing the Lestrange and his cronies could do to them that would hurt them worse.

"Very well," Lestrange repeated. "Please, continue your…pilgrimage, Serf. If I were you, I wouldn't return home for a few days. Take some time to enjoy the cathedral," he said magnanimously, gesturing at the church behind him. "And consider your debt paid." Then he swept away and Draco saw several other dark figures appear from the crowd and follow him. So, the other minions had been so nearby the entire time. He felt his body sag in relief as he watched them go and waited until the last had disappeared into the crowd before he turned and made his way into the chapel, his arms still about Hermione. Lestrange's gesture of kindness- advising him to stay away from his false home- had surprised him, but he supposed that if he, Draco Malfoy, could switch sides he wasn't the only Death Eater with a modicum of compassion. Shaking his head, he walked over to a pew and helped Hermione in before he sat down next to her. He made a motion and she followed his lead, getting on her knees and clasping her hands before her.

"What was that?" she whispered to him as soon as they were settled. She'd gotten a little better at ferreting out the meaning of the old language, but it was still confusing.

"Leading them off the trail. That information will take them out of the city for a few days, at least, relieve some of the pressure on Charlie. Let him do his job. And the forest alone will keep them occupied a good five days, not to mention the plague."

Hermione looked at him like he was crazy, but he could tell she was struggling to keep a smile off her face.

"Don't look at me that way," he hissed at her. "And if I catch the words 'you're wonderful' leaving those lips you won't have a tongue left in your head," he threatened.

"I don't know what on earth you're talking about," she replied. He frowned and stood up again and she followed him. "But you aren't all bad," she whispered to his back. He made a sharp gesture and she bit her lip, keeping the smile at bay.

When they got to the front of the church, he dug out some coins and deposited them in a box. Then he walked over to an alcove and lit a candle. Hermione watched quietly, waiting for more orders. The candle didn't light, instead sputtering and smoking. She watched as Draco reached forward and put his hand about the candle and gave it a tug. To her surprise, the grating noise of stone on stone reached her ears and she looked about until Draco reached over and took her hand and pointed. She saw it then, the passageway that had opened up in the side of a nearby pillar. Her eyes widened and Draco took a moment to pull her wrap farther over her head before he turned and led her towards the narrow doorway.

Just as they reached the door, voices filtered back to them from the doors of the church. Hermione stilled, but Draco shook his head and pulled her forward, shoving her into the dark opening and hitting a slightly indented stone. As the door closed, separating her frightened face from his, he whispered the same instructions to her that he had what felt like years ago.

"Go, start walking. The tunnel leads one place. Don't come back."

"Draco-"

"Go!" he whispered fiercely and then the door was closed again.

She stood there in the dark, one hand on the wall before her, the other holding the small sack filled with supplies which he'd thrust into her hands just before the door shut. He'd meant it. He'd left her everything she needed to go on, including a wand. Blaise's wand, which was secreted in the bag as well. She shuddered and considered pounding on the door, but realized it would do neither of them any good.

The voices had been that Death Eater and one of his minions, she knew, and Draco clearly didn't want to risk her anymore. She wondered what sort of lie he would tell to explain her absence. She wondered if he was even lying to them at all. What if he'd turn coat again at the first sign of trouble? Hadn't that happened at the battle for Hogwarts, all those months ago? She shook her head suddenly. No, Draco wouldn't do that. He was a good man. Brave, no matter what he said about himself. She knew that, now. He would never betray the work he'd dedicated himself to for the last several months. This change of heart was permanent, she was certain.

Which left her only one choice, really.

With a small sigh, she felt around the wall in front of her, then turned and tested the ground with one foot. Steps. So, the pillar led to a tunnel below. Well, she was not about to go down there by herself. Draco would just have to deal with that when he opened the door again and saw her sitting there on the top step. And he would open the door again…wouldn't he? Hermione settled herself on the step as planned and crossed her arms. Potions recipes, that was it. She would recite every potion she'd learned in third year. If he wasn't back by the time she finished, then…then she would follow his orders. But waiting for a bit, after all he'd done for her? It was the least she could do.

* * *

**AN: BUAHAHAHAHA! Don't worry, the cliffhanger won't last long and dur, Draco will be fine. What are you worried for?**


	8. In Which Hermione Trusts Too Soon

**Don't own Harry Potter, nope nope nope!**

* * *

Draco turned around and faced the two men as they walked up the aisle. He could feel panic creeping up under the filthy clothes and mud that covered his body and shut it away in his mind. He couldn't panic, couldn't be afraid. He had to play his role and keep Hermione safe, if it was the last thing he did. Now, as he watched the previously dealt with Death Eaters approaching him, he had the feeling it _would_ likely be the last thing he did.

"Serf- William," Lestrange called out.

"Aye, my lords," he said, moving forward warily. He knew it would look as if he had just come away from the candles and prayed the men wouldn't notice the smoke lingering in the air. They might think he hadn't lit one yet, then. Then again, it was unlikely anyone would notice a little extra smoke in a city as dirty as this.

"Can your wife confirm the dragon sightings?"

Draco smiled apologetically even as his breathing came shorter. "I'm sorry, my lords, she is a mute- deaf and dumb. But she has seen the things, as well. I can promise you that."

"Ah. Well- where is she, anyway?"

"The closet, my lords."

"Confession?"

"Nay, my lords."

Lestrange sneered in disgust again as Draco's meaning became clear and he turned away. "Very well. As I said before, you should…stay in the city a while. Reardon Under-Hill, you said?"

"Aye, my lords."

"Yes, well. It won't be very safe for a while, I'm afraid. While we deal with the dragons, you understand."

Draco fixed a blank stare on them both and Lestrange raised an eyebrow. "Yes, well," he muttered before gesturing to his companion and they both started back down the aisle. Draco watched them go for a moment before he walked back to the candles.

Hands shaking, he made sure to light a real one and then spent several minutes pretending to pray before he found the fake candle again. He was certain a few real prayers had slipped in with the false ones, though. One could never have too much help. (Unfortunately they didn't help him notice the dark figure that watched his actions from a far corner of the church.)

* * *

So, it was with a great deal of relief that he opened the passage way and stepped inside, hoping Hermione hadn't gotten too far along the tunnel. The door slid closed and he started forward anxiously, only to trip over a very warm body huddled on the top step, sending them both tumbling down the stairwell. He curled his body around Hermione's to protect her- because he knew, as surely as his family was a bunch of mental blood-purists, that she hadn't listened to him and had waited for him (which made his heart beat a little faster than it should've). Stupid girl had fallen asleep, too, and only came awake as she found herself falling, head over heels, down a darkened, dank staircase. They landed at the bottom with a thud and Draco groaned immediately, positive something in his leg had cracked.

"Granger!" he barked out as he saw stars. She removed herself from his arms with some difficulty and sat back from him, unsure what to do. "Bag-" he managed to bite off and she fumbled at her side for the pouch he'd given her.

"What do you need?" she asked, voice still hushed with fear.

"Potion- pain- green bottle- _lumos_," he finished, flicking his wrist and sending a little ball of light into the air above them. Hermione dug about in the bag and finally pulled out a tiny bottle, which she handed to Draco. It grew to its normal size in his hand and she watched anxiously as he pulled the stop and downed the entire thing in one gulp. Then, he slowly sat up and took a look at the injured leg. A sharp pain in his side made his breath come up short, but he figured a bruised- or even broken- rib or two was more manageable than a broken leg. Which is exactly what he had. He blanched at the sight of it and motioned to Hermione.

"Can you- hold it down, for me? Now, twist it just there- ah!" he let out a soft hiss of pain as she readjusted the leg for him and then held it still. He pointed his wand at it and murmured a spell, quite aware that Hermione's eyes were trained on his face. He winced sharply as the bone knit itself back together and then collapsed back against the stairs. Hermione chewed on her lower lip a moment and then reached out a hand, brushing his sooty hair away from his face. She gasped as her fingers touched his skin and was suddenly hovering over him, concern pasted upon her face.

"You're burning up, Draco- you're running a fever!"

He batted her hand away as he caught his breath, an annoyed expression on his face. "I'm fine," he replied. "What the hell were you still doing up at the top, anyway? I left you the bag- you should have gone on! What would have happened if they'd discovered the passage?

"I-" Hermione began, but closed her mouth again as soon as she'd opened it. She sat back on her heels and dug through the bag again. "Do you have a fever reducer in here?" she finally asked after a long moment.

"No," he replied, a bit sharply. "But the one I just took should help, if I am running a fever," he grudgingly admitted a second later. "As for us, right now, we need to go."

Draco followed his words with actions and was on his feet and starting down the tunnel in no time, despite Hermione's protests. She tagged along after him, clutching the pouch to her chest and he glanced back at her.

"You should have Blaise's wand now," he told her and she frowned. Taking her expression the wrong way, he continued, "I'm sorry I didn't give it to you sooner. I had to be sure you would trust me-"

"That's not it. I just feel…I'd rather not have any wand than his," she finished. He faced forward again, considered the situation.

"Fine. I'll find another for you," he replied. "Now keep up."

"Are you sure your leg is-"

"Yes."

"And you're not too sick-"

"Yes! Merlin, Granger! Shut up and keep up or else I'll hex you, so help me God!"

Hermione gave him a very hurt look, but shut her mouth anyway and they walked along in silence for some time.

After a while, Draco felt her fingers brush his and then she took his hand firmly. He decided to let her hold it, which was why his fingers curled about hers so possessively. It was a small price to pay for her silence as they made their way down the tunnel and out of a lost and darkened age into another.

(It took the shadowy figure in the church a day to discover the secret of the passageway.)

* * *

They walked until Draco's newly healed leg began to ache again; they walked until Hermione's tired and strained muscles gave out; and even then Draco picked her up and carried her for as long as he could. When even he couldn't go any further, though, and Hermione's hand found his forehead again and insisted they stop, he finally put her down and admitted they could probably chance a rest.

"You idiot!" she chastised him as he dug through his potions while Hermione massaged first his leg, then hers. "You _are_ burning up. You've probably caught the plague or some other god-awful disease-"

"Granger," he said mildly, "didn't I ask you- politely- to shut it?"

Their relationship had changed drastically in the last two days, it seemed, dating to when she'd willingly put her lips to his. She was a woman after his own heart, he'd secretly decided- willing to do whatever it took to survive. If Hermione could have heard him say that, she would have snorted. He might have thought the idea of self-preservation was nice enough, but considering his recent actions, he was anything but the selfish bastard he labeled himself as.

In the past twenty-four hours, at least, he'd been increasingly tender and forthcoming with her…and for her own part, she'd grown positively maternal on him. In the most self-serving ways possible, of course. Oh, of course.

Now, resting in what Hermione assumed was the last part of the tunnel, sitting shoulder to shoulder, she almost felt…normal. Friendly. It was bizarre, to say the least, but she had the distinct impression they were interacting in very much the ways that normal teenagers ought- bickering, cautiously flirting, and saving one another's lives. Well, scratch that last bit. She screwed her mouth up as she thought about it and caught Draco casting a glance at her.

"What?"

"Just expecting a comeback, Granger. Not that I want you to make one up on my behalf- don't strain yourself." He smirked and almost looked like his normal self, but for the odd clothing and disguising make-up they were both still wearing. Draco Malfoy smeared with dirt and soot was a lot more palatable than the old one had ever been, she thought briefly. Hermione rolled her eyes at him, but stayed quiet. Draco seemed to be generally in a better mood when she was quiet and followed orders, so she didn't see a reason to irritate him even more if he wasn't feeling well. However…

"You know, I know you have supplies in there. If you have a cauldron I could brew up some more-"

"Stop right there. None of that nonsense anymore, you hear me? I'll be fine. We're almost to our next leg and I'll be taken care of there, alright? Now get some rest. We can only spare a couple of hours before we need to go again."

"Why so short?"

"I'm worried," he admitted. "I want to believe we made it out of there safely, and I know I sent those men off on a wild goose chase, but…I can't help the feeling we're being followed, or someone was watching us."

"Another Death Eater?" she whispered, watching his face carefully.

"No. Of that much I'm sure. But there's no telling where people's loyalties would rest in times like those. If someone saw our escape they might very well report it, on fear of death, or worse."

Hermione didn't need to ask what could be worse than death. She'd lived it for four wretched months.

"Alright," she told him. "Two hours." Then she laid her head back against the tunnel wall and let it slip until it was nestled just against his shoulder. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep, rather than spend the entire time listening to the racing heartbeat of the boy- the man- seated next to her. After only a few minutes, the sound of it was the very thing that sent her drifting off.

Draco looked down at her pale, dirty form and something like a sad smile crossed his lips before he extinguished his light and laid his head atop hers.

(It was another two days before the stranger who'd spied them reached the Death Eaters' party with the information. He caught the plague for his efforts.)

* * *

It wasn't the last part of the tunnel; and when Hermione woke up, she discovered that Draco expected her to walk even further. She dogged his increasingly disorderly steps with some concern. She knew she wasn't in great shape, but he was running a fever or she was a hippogriff's uncle (or something equally ridiculous). She tried to estimate how long they had been in the tunnel, but she had no way of knowing unless she asked him- something she was loath to do. He'd accepted that she knew what he was up to, but that seemed to make him even more closed mouth about his plans. She had no idea what was next after this leg of the journey was over. She wasn't sure, judging from the set of his lips, that she wanted to know.

But finally, after what surely must have been two days of walking, they reached the end. A breeze had infiltrated the tunnel and she was certain that was a crack of light up ahead, which got steadily larger the closer they came. It was with a sigh of relief, in fact, that Hermione found herself bumping against Draco's back as his lean frame halted for the twentieth, and final, time.

"Can I help?" she asked as she saw him moving some rocks by the now dim light of his wand.

He only grunted, but didn't move to push her away when she joined him and before long they had uncovered a small lever-like device. Draco regarded it for a moment, tugged at it a few times experimentally. Nothing happened.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Charmed," he murmured. "Can't use my blood. Have to- do you mind?" he asked her as he pulled a small knife from the pouch.

Wordlessly, she held out her hand and watched as he pierced her palm and then smeared the blood that welled up there onto the device. She winced, but didn't say a word. Certainly didn't think to ask why they couldn't use his blood. Why, he was a Death Eater on the run. No other reasons occurred to her, she trusted him so explicitly at that point. Aside from that fever.

When he tugged it again, it pulled the door open this time and he briefly flicked his wand at her hand, closing the swelling wound easily, if she ignored the breath that came to him in ragged gasps.

"Draco," she began, but at one look from him she shut her mouth again. Fine. Let him boss her about a little longer. As soon as they reached shelter she was brewing him the strongest healing draught she knew.

Her hand secured in his, he drew the attached arm up and under his own, tucking it against his body. She was touched by the gesture, at first. As if he was supporting her when it was really her supporting him at this point. She never imagined he might be very, very frightened for her, or worried she would run away. Not for a minute.

Until they were halfway across the field and she realized, with a start, that she'd been over this field before.

That the large, gated estate they were approaching was one she'd been to before.

That he was taking her to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

**AN: BUAHAHAHAHA! Am I taking the maniacal laughter too far? You can be honest, I don't mind. :)**


	9. In Which Hermione's Trust is Justified

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter! Nope, nope, nope...sad me. *WEEP***

* * *

Hermione didn't struggle at first. She paced her steps beside Draco, still trying to cling to her newfound trust for him. When he continued to walk towards the manor, keeping their cloaks and wraps close about them, even casting a small glamour over them as they approached the gates, she finally began to fight.

She tried to tug her arm from under his, to no avail. Then she tried to stop walking, which only succeeded in him half dragging her with him. She finally gave a desperate yell and stepped on his feet. She would have kicked and screamed a bit as well, but he had his wand under her chin before she could consider it. But then, instead of yelling at her like she expected, or backhanding her, or making good on any number of threats he'd passed off recently, he just gave her an exasperated look.

"What?" he asked, voice low and raspy. His face was unreadable except for fear, and that didn't tell her anything. He could be afraid because they might be caught or because he was leading her to the slaughter or for any number of reasons, really.

"What is this?" she asked. She felt like she'd been asking that question an awful lot the past week.

"The next leg," he answered shortly.

"Your…home? You can't be serious!"

At the accusation in her voice, Draco's face split into a pained and humorless grin.

"It's quite brilliant, isn't it? And sick and twisted…Malfoy Manor has been operating as a stop on the Order's very own Underground Railroad."

"The what?" Hermione asked, momentarily confused.

"The Underground- oh, damn it all. Muggle Americans, slavery, snap to it, Granger!"

"Oh- _oh_. You mean you're not-"

"Taking you on that ridiculous journey just to turn you over now? Trying to break you better than Blaise could? Merlin, Granger, not that I blame you for thinking it, but…" here his voice dissolved in a series of coughs and wheezing and Hermione leaned forward, supporting him further.

"You're sick," she said flatly.

"Am…not," he replied hoarsely and she frowned when he didn't relinquish his grasp on her arm.

"You are. You need help. Tell me where to go. You can't walk another step."

"I'm not sending you in there alone, Granger- pack of wolves…"

"Malfoy- _Draco_. You're-" she stopped short as his head lolled on her shoulder and she felt his entire body go limp in her arms. Her own weakened state couldn't support him and they both went crashing to the ground. How the hell were they supposed to get to safety now? She drew their cloaks about them further as she noticed the air was considerably cooler here than it had been back in the time warp. What time of year was it? Early Fall? She glanced about, but could see nothing but dark trees and hills and the imposing presence of the Manor ahead of them. Somehow they needed to get inside- if Draco was telling the truth, there would be someone there expecting them…or at least who would understand the situation and know what to do.

Desperate, she held his limp form in her arms as she struggled from underneath him and called out in a soft voice.

"Hello? It's- it's Draco. He needs help. Hello?" Nothing happened aside from the wind picking up and Hermione gave up calling out and instead felt around on his person for something, anything that resembled a key. She pulled out his wand first, but was uncertain if she should use it or not. After all, she had no idea what security around the remains of the manor was like. And Draco had even been so reluctant to signal his presence he had demanded her blood to activate the release of the tunnel entrance…if she used Draco's wand, someone was sure to notice.

She settled on casting a search spell on him, instead, looking for some ways of communicating with whoever the contact inside the manner was. The spell finally settled on one of his pockets and she reached in hesitantly, giving a small wince when her fingers touched something sharp. Awkwardly, she pulled the object out and wiped it off before she took a good look at it. It was a mirror, or a piece of one.

She smiled broadly for the first time in ages. It was Harry's two-way mirror, or she'd eat her…well, if she ever had a hat again she would eat it. Desperate, she held it up in the partial moonlight and looked at it closely.

"Hello?" she called to it. "It's- well, it's Granger, Hermione Granger. I'm with Draco. He's sick- we're just outside the manor grounds and I can't move him- please, please help us. Please!"

Then, as she imagined Harry must've, over a year ago, she saw a flash of blue eye. It was gone as quickly as she saw it, though, and she settled back on her heels, putting both arms about Draco's now shivering body protectively. She heard the pop of apparition before she saw anything and then there were thin arms going about the both of them, turning all three of them on the spot.

Hermione thought about screaming, but figured it would do no good. Everything else she'd done thus far had been a leap of faith and it would be foolish of her to start doubting Draco now, she thought firmly. So she bit her lips and kept her arms around him and hoped to God she'd called the right person to help them.

When they finished turning, she felt herself tumbling to the ground again as the same thin arms pried Draco away from her.

"Give him to me," said a soft, elderly voice. A voice Hermione recognized.

"Kreacher?!" she said, shock evident in her face as she turned to look at their rescuer.

"Miss Hermione," he replied, nodding to her as he checked over Draco in his slow, orderly manner.

"What are you doing here?"

He put one long, spindly finger to his lips and glanced about in a skulking manner. "It's a secret, Miss; Master Harry placed me here. No one notices an old elf like myself, Miss."

Hermione felt her heart swell at Harry's name and leaned over impulsively to hug the old elf, more fond of him than ever before. He responded by grumbling a bit, then gently removed her arms.

"I must help Master Draco, Miss."

"Oh- of course, I'm sorry," she murmured, pulling away. She watched anxiously as his hands moved across Draco's sweat-lined brow and fluttering eyes- which were at least a sign of brain activity. She watched them closely for another minute before she decided to look around and try to guess where they were in the manor. It was apparent after only a few minutes that these were the house elves' quarters, just off the kitchen area. It wasn't dirty or disorderly, as she might have expected, but clean and neat. Of course, she thought, they are house elves. Just because they don't have proper clothes or are treated well doesn't mean they don't keep up their rooms on their own. She looked back to Draco and Kreacher just as a shadow fell across the small room they were in and she immediately turned around, putting her arms in front of Draco and the elf, shielding them as best she could.

"Is that…Draco!" the woman in the doorway exclaimed and rushed forward, pushing Hermione away easily.

Hermione's eyes widened even more. Narcissa Malfoy was in on it as well? Would wonders never cease? Shocked, she sat against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest and continued to watch as Kreacher, and now Draco's mother, looked over his still form.

After some minutes, she finally found her voice again. "Will he be alright?"

Narcissa's shoulders stiffened at first, as if she was reluctant to answer, or was making a decision, but then she turned to her, relief evident on her face. "Oh, yes- he's just tired. You'll have to wait at least a day or two to rest up before you can go on. We have a number of healing potions and Kreacher is very good, but this sort of fever takes time. Will you be alright here, do you think?" Narcissa moved across the small space to Hermione and held up a hand to her forehead, feeling for the same heat her son's body held.

Hermione let the woman flutter about her for a moment, watching her with guarded eyes, before she decided it was safe to ask more questions.

"Why are we here?"

The older witch frowned, trying to decide what Hermione was really asking. Of course they were there because it was a stop on the escape route; that was obvious. No, she decided, the younger woman wanted to know why Narcissa was allowing this, helping muggles willingly. She said as much and nodded with satisfaction when Hermione confirmed her hunch.

"It was the sensible thing to do, Miss- Granger, was it? My son's life was at stake. His humanity. So when he showed signs of wanting to change, I encouraged it. We were fortunate to have that old family secret out on the back lawn- the tunnel, I mean- and once he came up with a plan, things fell into place. Now, I'd better not say any more or else he will be very upset with me when he wakes up."

Hermione looked over Narcissa's shoulder to see Kreacher apparating away with Draco in arm.

"Where is he taking him?"

"The same place you'll be going, soon enough. The ruined wing. There are some rooms still in good enough repair that will suit you comfortably for the next few days."

"But what about other- well, you know…"

Narcissa's eyes flicked over Hermione's face uncertainly, as if searching for something. Fear, perhaps. Then she continued to tend to her briskly before putting an arm about her shoulders and helping her up.

"Lucius is away on business a great deal. As for our other family members, they all live with _him_ up at the castle. We rarely see them anymore, except for the occasional stop-over when they're on a raiding party or something equally distasteful."

"Inhuman," Hermione snorted and Narcissa looked at her sharply as she walked her up the back stairs, the servant's stairs.

"I see he was wrong about you, Miss Granger. That is good to know."

"Who? What do you mean?"

Narcissa shook her head and opened a door, ushering Hermione inside. "He thought you were completely broken. He wasn't sure you'd ever be the same. It ate away at him, not being able to get you out sooner. He thought it was somehow his fault."

Hermione's head was whirling. She realized Narcissa had cast some sort of sleep charm on her. Who did she mean? Harry? Ron? Ron…he, especially, would hate himself for letting Hermione be caught. He would rather have died- but that was the very reason she had to be the one taken, wasn't it? Otherwise…otherwise the war would be lost. She'd already been tortured once; that was how she knew she could stand it, could survive it. But Narcissa was saying…what was she saying, again? It was important, but she was suddenly so very sleepy and every bone in her body ached…

"But, who?" she found herself murmuring. "Who do you mean?"

Narcissa's pale face loomed over her as she tucked the younger witch into a bed and pulled the covers snug under her chin.

"Draco," she replied and Hermione felt very silly. Of course, Draco had worried about her. It was all too obvious- hadn't he said as much the other day, in that awful city? And the look on his face when he'd heard the truth of what Blaise had done- he'd been stricken, paralyzed with guilt. She'd just been too sick to notice at the time, but now it was clear that he had feelings. _Good_ feelings- and rather a lot of them, she suspected, if only her mind would stop clouding over that way. He _cared_ about her…she mumbled something around the rim of the glass Narcissa held to her lips and saw the older woman's mouth curve into something resembling a smile as she responded.

Then there was inky, heavenly darkness.

(A day after they arrived at the manor, word of the tunnel and its travelers reached Hogwarts. Lestrange caught a lot more than the plague for his efforts.)

* * *

Draco awoke quickly and sat up with the same speed, his heart pounding. He registered where he was and immediately slipped from the bed, standing up and crossing the room in a few long strides. The door wouldn't open when he tugged at it and he felt panic rise in a wave, only to have it dash down again when he heard her soft voice behind him.

"You're awake."

He turned around, relieved. "Granger."

Hermione uncurled her legs from under her and stretched. "I was next door all yesterday, but your mother thought we ought to be together once your fever went down. How are you feeling?"

How was he feeling? Absurd. Happy. Relieved. Very, very curious. It was too surreal, to have Hermione here, in his childhood home (because that's all it was and would ever be, now) and him in his pajamas. Rather, pajama bottoms. He flushed and she stared at him hard.

"You're not still feverish, are you?"

"I'm fine, Granger," he said, repeating himself for what felt like the millionth time. "So, you got us here alright."

"I had to use your wand to find the mirror," she replied. "It _is_ Harry's mirror, isn't it?" she said and Draco knew what she really meant. Harry is really alive, she was asking.

"Yes," he responded, before turning back to the door, secretly pleased and proud of her. "Do you want my wand?" he asked suddenly and Hermione stared at his bare back, surprised. "I'll have Blaise's," he explained, turning around again and coming over to sit beside her. She tried not to notice the way his lean muscles slid beneath the pale skin of his stomach and shoulders.

"I don't think anyone should have his," she admitted quietly and his eyes softened. They were a very, very pale grey, she noticed. She wondered what he thought of her eyes briefly, before deciding it didn't matter.

He continued to feel absurd. "Probably not, but you ought to have one. For protection. I'm worried about being here. My father is probably downstairs right now," he added with a sharp, uncomfortable laugh.

Hermione didn't think that thought was very funny, but she assumed, from the way Draco was acting, that he didn't think so, either. She eyed him a moment before she reached out and took one of the hands that lay clenched in a fist in his lap, trying not to think about all that bare skin that lay under his pajama bottoms.

"Draco," she murmured, though it killed her to do it and the words wanted to stick in her throat, "your father isn't so bad-"

"Isn't he?" he retorted, snatching his hand away, his chest heaving. "He told me he loved me and never beat me- but that doesn't make him a good man. He's continued to serve _him_, hasn't he? Despite everything my mother has said and done for him, despite watching our family be ground beneath that monster's heal…out of fear for his _life_." He said the last word so derisively that Hermione curled away from him, crossing her arms about her chest. As if she could ward off the venom in his voice, when it wasn't even directed at herself.

Draco turned his pale, silvery eyes upon her, frowning. "Tell me, who in his right mind calls this filth_, _this _squalor_, a life?" he ended, throwing an angry hand out, gesturing to the room, to the estate outside. To his former home and all the dirty deeds committed there and elsewhere, in the name of a madman.

Hermione shivered once and sat up straight again. If she'd had any remaining doubts about Draco's loyalties, they were firmly washed away in the tide of anger that swept out of his lean frame. Suddenly tired, he hunched his shoulders again and allowed her to take his hand this time. She held it tightly.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He let out another sharp laugh before turning his eyes away from her beautiful, sad face. "Granger," he began, "I don't ever want to hear those words come out of your mouth again. Ever."

She opened her mouth again as if to disagree, thought better of it, and leaned towards him instead, placing her lips against his cheek. She felt his skin warm beneath the contact and pulled away to find him blushing again.

"I think you are feverish," she said, providing him with some cover. A little dignity. (Because surely, Draco Malfoy never blushed.) He didn't reply at first, only rolled an eye towards her and then heavenwards as if to say, why me?

She smiled.

* * *

**AN: You know, if I keep this up, I'll finish it this week. Wouldn't that be nice? Then I could go back to working on my other stories- you know, the ones that I started over a year and a half ago. Yeah, that would be nice...**


	10. In Which There Is No Turning Back

**I don't own HP, okay? **

**AN: I...wow. This chapter was interesting. Don't hate me at the end. I love you all!!!!!!**

* * *

Draco looked from Hermione to the door once again before he finally reached for the handle. He turned his head one last time.

"You're sure you won't come with me?"

"I'd rather…I'd rather stay where I know I'm safe," she replied, arms wrapped tight about her chest.

"You know it's not a guarantee-"

"I know, but it's better than me wandering about the house. That's too- just go and come back, please," she finished in a soft voice. "I've been fine so far, Draco. Just go."

"Alright. But as soon as I'm back we're leaving. I don't care what my mother says. I'm fine, now."

"Okay, okay! _Go_, Draco."

With one last look at her, Draco opened the door and stepped outside. He locked the door behind him as a precaution, but knew that, in the event someone did find out they were at the manor, nothing would help her. Nothing would help him, for that matter. He supposed he could always make something up on the spot, but he'd decided, the minute he'd taken Hermione away from Hogwarts, that he was through telling lies for his own survival. If he lied again now, it would be to save someone else's skin, not himself.

He made his way into the kitchen and asked Kreacher nicely for some supplies. The elderly elf gave him a thorough once over before he grudgingly handed him a bundle of food. Draco diligently shrank it down and tucked it into the pouch.

"How is everyone, Kreacher?" he asked and the elf squinted up at him.

"You mean the Order," he replied.

Draco didn't say anything, just tried not to look too eager for news. The operation had a slow news speed- word of mouth, since everything in the castle grounds had been under too tight of security, and outside it was simply too dangerous for the escapees to know more than the next several miles. They daren't plan ahead farther than that, because there was no telling when something might go wrong. So Draco had sent them out, one by one, blind. Most of them had made it.

Most of them.

And now it was him and Hermione, the last one salvageable. He knew what she thought of herself, that she could handle the sentence, the torture, better than her friends could've. She would've done anything for them, and he firmly believed that. But everyone has a breaking point and she had been near hers when he'd finally taken her away, only a week earlier.

His mind wandered as he tried to focus on Kreacher's mumbled reply. Had it truly only been seven days? Such a short time and yet he felt he'd gone to the depths of the earth with her. He shook his head momentarily, clearing it of any remaining cobwebs. No, he couldn't allow himself to think that way. No matter how beautiful he thought she was, ratted hair and all.

"Things are, I fear, very much the same, Master Draco. Master Harry frets every day over Miss Hermione's return. Master Ron says nothing to anyone except Master Harry. Your mother is very worried someone is onto you," he added, starting Draco from his thoughts.

"What? When did this happen? You must tell me," he ordered, suddenly very concerned. So. They may have been found out. Well, it was nothing he hadn't expected. He just hadn't expected it to happen while they were at Malfoy bloody Manor. When they were at their most vulnerable. When someone like his disgusting, cruel aunt could walk through the door at any moment and not hesitate to put the killing curse to either of them.

He owed Hermione better than that.

"Your father…" Kreacher drawled, "returned home a few hours ago. Apparently wand magic was detected outside the house. He insisted to Mistress Narcissa it belonged to you, but she has held him off. They were arguing again in the library, the last I saw, Master Draco."

Draco felt the blood drain from his face and sat down hard. "What am I going to do?" he wondered aloud. Kreacher watched him silently a moment before he took the bag away.

"I will take this to Miss Hermione," he said. "You must think. I will leave you alone." Then he bowed low and popped away. Draco stared at the spot he'd vacated and wondered if they could use Kreacher to make a getaway…but that would still leave his mother here, unattended. Unprotected. Because if Draco left now, without trying to explain something to his father, he knew without a doubt that his mother would bear the brunt of it. That was not something he could live with.

He'd already asked his mother if she would leave with them when they made their escape and she had turned him down.

"Draco, I love you. Your safety is the most important thing to me. But I'd accepted long ago that this is my- my last stand, you might say. When they come for you, all they will find is me."

"Mother-" He'd tried to argue with her, but she'd replied implacably with the same words again and again until he'd drawn the final truth.

"I won't leave your father, Draco."

"He's insane, Mother!"

"He is my husband and I love him as much as I love you. Have you never sworn an oath, Draco?"

"Mother…"

"This is where I brought you into the world and this is where you will see me leave it. It is still my _home_."

Draco shook his head again, standing up. He knew, that if he ever wanted to get his mother away from them, to take her with him, then he had one chance and it was now. One chance to convince her to leave- convincing his father to leave, as well. Their was only one problem. He didn't know if there was enough of a man left inside the broken hull of Lucius Malfoy worth saving.

Fear prickling up and down his spine, he strode from the kitchen and made his way to the library, determined to find out.

* * *

They were standing close to one another for it to be an embrace, their figures backlit by the roaring fire in the now ruined, once magnificent library. He watched them from the shadows of the doorway for a moment, drawn tightly in his own battle even as he watched theirs rage.

"You know where he is," Lucius was accusing Narcissa, his hands tight about her shoulders. She was staring up at him calmly, though the strain of holding him away, her hands planted against his chest, was starting to show in her face.

"Don't you think I would be wherever he is, Lucius? You know my feelings for our son. Better than you know me anymore, I think."

"It was his magic! I know it! I set the spell myself, after that idiot Lestrange's information came through. I-"

"Lucius, you're being unreasonable. It probably wasn't even him, if it was his wand- probably someone's taken it from him again," she sneered, finally breaking free only to have him reach out a hand and grasp her wrist, pulling her back to him. "Lucius," she gasped.

"Cissy, so help me-"

Draco decided he couldn't watch anymore. He also decided his father was far, far, too gone to save. But the man was still his father. The man who'd taken him on his first sojourn into Diagon Alley; the man who'd helped him learn to ride a broom; the man who'd watched over his first steps so carefully he'd carried him everywhere; on top of his shoulders, promising his son he would always be there, on top of the world and _safe_.

Draco owed it to him to give him this one, final chance. He hadn't been honest with his father since Hogwarts had been taken; maybe if he just _explained_. Maybe…he stepped forward.

"It's alright, Mother," he said quietly. "He deserves to know the truth."

Narcissa grew pale and leaned away from Lucius, suddenly terrified for her son. For the poor creature hiding upstairs. She tried to mouth the words, to tell him to go, but they wouldn't come.

"Ah, Draco." Lucius' entire manner changed; he released Narcissa's wrist; stepped away from the fire; straightened up and smoothed out the frown on his face into what was once a pleasant, even charming, smile. "I thought you might be home."

"This is no longer my home, Father."

"Of course not. You call Hogwarts home now. So, what brings you to us? I was telling your mother I thought your wand-"

"I know what you were telling her, Father. And it's true. I'm here, I used my wand. I left the castle against orders."

Lucius' eyes narrowed and Draco met them fearlessly. He was as practiced a Legilimens and Occlumens as his father now and neither of those magicks frightened him anymore. Not coming from this man. Not anymore.

"Looking for answers, Father?"

"Now, now, Draco. I know you must have good reason for leaving Hogwarts. Just tell me what it is and I can help you…"

"I actually think I'm the one who can help you, Father," he replied. "If you promise not to do anything foolish."

Lucius bared his teeth, but cast a worried glance at Narcissa. "Threats, Draco? Against your own father?"

"I learned from the best," Draco bit off. "Are you interested or not?"

Narcissa tried to make another motion to him, but Lucius put up a hand, staying her action.

"Draco, I'm sorry. We haven't gotten off to a good start, have we? It's been months since we've spoken…things are bad right now, son. I haven't been feeling…myself, you might say. Merlin knows your mother has noticed."

Draco saw Narcissa's expression soften, but he kept his own guard up. He'd seen his father trying to talk his way out of a tough spot before. He couldn't afford to let himself be taken in. And yet…the man was his father. Draco let his shoulders relax a bit, keeping a firm grip on his wand. He wondered if it would always come down to blood, no matter who won. No matter who lived.

Lucius seemed to sense his hesitation and spoke again. "Draco, forgive me. I know- what you saw just now- it's just the strain of it all…surely you understand. Things can not have been easy for you recently. You simply needed a rest, is that it? I understand the need. I feel weary myself, more days than not." The older wizard let out a small gasp of pitiful laughter and Draco shook his head.

"It's not that simple, Father, but I do understand. It wears, doing this year after year, doesn't it?

Lucius' face became guarded again and, oddly enough, that was what made Draco want to believe him, more than anything else. As much as his father had loved him, the man would never willingly display so much affection without caution. It was simply the Malfoy way.

"One might say that," Lucius admitted stiffly and Draco jerked his head over his shoulder.

"Come with me, then."

"Pardon me?"

Draco made a frustrated gesture. "You heard me."

"Come with you?" The expression grew mildly interested. "Where?"

Narcissa burst into the conversation at that moment, her eyes wide and desperate- for what, Draco couldn't tell.

"To the kitchen- come, we'll all have a meal together, talk about this. Draco, you should go upstairs and change beforehand. I'll send the house elf up to help you-"

Draco suddenly realized what she was trying to do and he stared at her, confused. Why was she trying to cover it up? Why was she trying to rush himself and Hermione from the manor?

"Mother, this is his chance- your chance," he pleaded and turned back to Lucius. "Come with me. Leave. You don't have to do this anymore, Father."

"Leave? What are you talking about? Has our son turned coat?" he asked, frowning deeply.

"Don't believe me? It's true," Draco went on, beginning to feel desperate. "I'm leaving tonight, with Granger, with or without you. Come with us, you and Mother. Please, Father," he begged, even as he trained his wand on the older wizard.

A tense silence descended on the room, so thick Draco could've cut it with a knife, and then it was pierced by a long, winded sigh.

"Alright," Lucius murmured, sagging against the mantelpiece. The expression on his face was so defeated Draco barely recognized him for a moment. He nearly dropped his wand in shock. Narcissa's eyes grew wide again.

"Oh, Lucius- you mean- we have to hurry, then. Please, hurry- Draco, go upstairs. You and she will go first. Your father and I will be right behind you-"

"No, Cissy," Lucius said, pulling her in for a hug. "Let me go up, see the girl. She won't take kindly to you pulling me along on your escape without some proof, some explanation."

Draco eyed him warily for another long second before he nodded. "Fine. Come with me."

He went ahead of them, listening to his mother's stifled sobs of relief the whole way up the stairs; his father's heavy tread. He'd never imagined how close his father must have been to the edge in order for him to agree to go. Then again, the war had pushed them all to places they'd never once dreamed of going, of becoming people they'd never wanted to be.

So it really shouldn't have been a surprise that he opened the door to the sanctuary only to turn and find his father's wand trained on him.

To realize his mother's sobs had been of fear and not relief.

To realize his father had played him perfectly. I must be tired to get so sloppy, was his last coherent thought before the Cruciatus Curse hit him square in the chest.

His next to last coherent thought was to yell at Hermione to run. He heard other things as the pain raced up and down his arms and legs and through and through him; things like bodies hitting walls, his mother's scream, his father's angry shouts. His father's maniacal laughter.

When he finally managed to crawl to his knees, panting, clothes in disarray, he looked up to find his father with one hand about Hermione's throat, the other with wand trained on himself and his mother's frightened form.

But Lucius' eyes were for Hermione only.

Narcissa saw him struggling to get up and crawled over to him, putting her arms about him, helping him to sit back on his heels.

"Lucius, how could you?" she cried out, her voice full of anguish. "Your own _son_!"

Draco stared at the scene before him, horrified, desperate for breath, but feeling more alive than he had for a very, very long time. She had suffered the same curse, the last time she'd been at Malfoy Manor and it seemed fitting, to him, that he should suffer it now by his father's hand. Karma was a judicious bitch and he loved it. So, this is what it had come down to- father against son. Cain and Abel. Abraham and Isaac. His hand crept across the carpet towards his wand and his father flung the curse at him again, sending his body into a raging, blinding fit of pain.

He welcomed it.

Narcissa's arms held him tight around his middle as he struggled and caved for more breath, for relief, for death. For life. Her words came through to him softly as the last of the curse wore away.

"He summoned the Eaters, Draco…he did it without my knowledge, just as I found him in the library. You see why I wanted you to go? I love him, darling, but he will never change. Not now. There's too much of him wrapped in all of _this_." Her voice broke on the last word and then he felt her reaching over and putting something long and slender in his hands- her own wand. He curled his cramped and crippled fingers about it and took a shaky breath as she held him tightly- the last embrace of a desperate woman.

Outside of them he could hear his father, too, as he increased his stranglehold on Hermione.

"You like that, mud blood? Enjoy being strangled by your superiors? Tell me, how often has my son honored you with his _presence_?"

Draco looked up from where he lay to take in the scene again. It had changed- Lucius was distracted, all his attention focused on Hermione as his fingers wound their way tighter about her neck, as he straddled her, as his other hand traveled her body. She was crying.

It was very important to Draco that he never see Hermione cry, ever again.

"You truly expected my pathetic offspring could bring you to safety? How many lies did he offer you? How much did you offer him to tempt him from his duty? All of this?" he asked, accentuating the question by putting his fingers where they clearly ought not to be.

Hermione continued to struggle beneath his grasp, though her motions were becoming slower as the seconds passed. As she lost more air.

Draco let out a cry of anger and pushed his mother away. Lucius turned his head, meeting Draco's accusing gaze with half-crazed eyes, mouth open in a wide, feral grin. Draco lifted his mother's wand, thought better of it at the last minute and grabbed for his own. The curse that left his father's lips missed him and hit Narcissa. The expression on Lucius' face flickered, grew uncertain as he looked from Draco to his beloved wife.

It provided the opening Draco needed.

With his mother's tortured cries ringing in ears and Hermione's tortured face filling his vision, he lifted his wand once again and incanted the words without thinking, without remorse.

"Avada Kedavra!"


	11. In Which the Truth Outs

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP. Wish I did!**

* * *

The curse hit his father right between the shoulders, jerking him back once before the shell he'd been for a long time already toppled to the ground. Lucius' arms remained across Hermione's shaking body and she pushed them away desperately as she looked over to him. Draco met her gaze with hard eyes before he glanced away quite deliberately.

His mother was just coming out of the curse, lifting her weakened shoulders and taking in the scene. He knelt beside her, all but ignoring Hermione. There were more important things, sometimes. He'd just killed his father, after all.

"Come with us, Mother," he whispered.

She shook her head and looked up at him, eyes full of tears and indecision. Disbelief. Draco waited for the yells, the shouts, the accusations, but none came. Only the sorrow and grief.

"I'll stay. I can hold them off," she replied.

Draco closed his eyes, afraid that would be her answer and knowing he couldn't change her mind now. He'd never held the power to change her mind. And now he'd sealed their fates.

"Go," she said hoarsely. "They'll be here any minute."

"Mother-"

"Someone needs to stay here," she insisted, a stubborn edge creeping into her tone. "With him," she ended, began a gesture, cut it off abruptly. Her hand fell limply to her lap. Draco leant over and placed a kiss on her head.

"I love you, Mother," he said softly.

She brought her hands up to her face and began to cry.

Hermione crept over to them and put a hand on Draco's shoulder as he knelt by his mother, feeling helpless and torn. It brought him out of his reverie, reminded him she was there- she was depending on him.

He'd just killed his father for her, after all.

There was a loud pop and Kreacher was suddenly in the room with them, picking up the discarded pouch and thrusting it into Draco's hands. "Master Draco, we must leave now. The Death Eaters are arriving. They will have no trouble detecting you _now_."

Draco reached a hand back and covered Hermione's once, briefly, before he stood up and fastened the pouch to his side. Now was not the time for grief. Now was the time for action. Cold, calculated action; because otherwise he'd never keep his head in the face of such terror.

"How are we leaving?" he asked stiffly. The others were to have flooed away- it made the trail longer, made their escapes harder to detect. But in light of recent events, it was foolish. Kreacher gave him the answer he was expecting.

"I will take you to safety, sir. I will take you to Master Harry."

"The farmhouse?" Draco asked and he turned to watch Hermione. She was shaking like a leaf, but the expression on her face showed determination and fight, not the petrifying fear he'd expected. Without a thought he reached over and drew one of her hands into his. She clung to it and offered him a look of such understanding that it nearly made him wretch. His eyes slid past his father's body and rested on his mother once again.

"Come with us, Mother," he pleaded again.

From somewhere deep on the first floor of the house came a rumble that shook it to its very foundations and Narcissa looked up from her hands.

"_Go_," she insisted as more tears spilled from her eyes.

He noticed Kreacher taking Hermione's hand from his peripheral vision and he opened his mouth.

"Mother, they'll-"

The rumbling stopped, only to be replaced by the sound of dozens of feet pounding up the staircase and down the hallway. Hermione's hand tightened about his and he felt the breath seizing up in his throat. He still held both wands in his hand and he lifted them to her, begging his mother to take hers back. To protect herself.

She smiled at him sadly.

"I love you, Draco," she whispered. "_I_ _love_ _you_."

"_Mother_-" he replied, voice strangled as he stretched the hand out further, begging her with his eyes to just reach out and take his wrist- to come with them.

He drank in her huddled, but proud, figure as long as he could- until the pounding of footsteps stopped right outside the door. Until he could feel Hermione's heart racing as she desperately clutched his hand. Until the sight of his slim, distinguished and dignified mother would be burned on his memory, even as she knelt, surrounded by the mess of what was once her proud home. Even as she drew her husband's dead form into her arms and prepared to meet her fate. Pale, shimmering hair, long neck, slender fingers. Kind mouth. Wise eyes. He would remember them until the day he died.

There was acceptance in her face as she turned away from his outstretched hand and looked at the door, waiting. "Kreacher," she said, voice shaking. It was the last sound Draco heard her make and he opened his mouth one last time, fingers straining as he realized it wasn't acceptance in her face, it was sacrifice.

Without further warning, Kreacher apparated.

The pop sounded loud to Narcissa's ears in the now hollow space and she turned her head to look at the spot where they'd been. Her wand was lying on the floor and she felt a twisted smile grow, even as she rocked Lucius in her arms.

Perhaps, if she was very lucky, she could take some of the bastards down with her.

* * *

As soon as they arrived in the front yard of the farmhouse, Draco broke away from Hermione and the elf and stumbled over to some bushes. Hermione heard the sound of him being sick and shuddered.

Of course he was sick. He'd just killed his father- for _her_- and had to leave his mother behind to God only knew what fate. It was enough to turn the stomach of even a hardened criminal. Which, she thought, Draco technically _was_. She started towards him, but felt Kreacher's hand on her wrist, staying her. When she looked down at him, he shook his head wisely and pointed at the farmhouse they were standing before instead.

"Harry?" she asked quietly. "And…and Ron?"

Kreacher nodded just as the door opened and light from it spilled over the yard.

"Kreacher!" called a voice, followed by a choked version of her own name and she turned towards the figure as it flew out of the doorway and straight for her. Then she was in Harry's arms and they were sobbing- they were both _weeping_ with relief and joy and grief.

"Oh my God, Hermione," Harry continued to say, as if repeating her name would make her more real than she already was and she held him tightly.

"Harry- I thought- I didn't know until I saw Charlie- I thought the most awful things when I was locked up-"

"We thought the most awful things, too, you have no idea, Hermione," he replied, half-laughing hysterically as he finally held her away from him only to pull her back into his embrace as quickly. Around the sound of his muffled heartbeat as she buried her face in his shoulder, she heard other footsteps and then someone else was there, calling her name as well.

"Hermione?" came Ron's unsteady voice. "Harry, my God- it's really her?"

"Malfoy brought her in- he promised he would and he has," Harry replied as he willingly passed her off to Ron's arms and then Ron was hugging her as tightly as Harry had, although perhaps she imagined that he was holding her more carefully.

"Malfoy!" Harry continued, glancing about the clearing. His eyes landed on Draco, who was sitting beside the bushes he'd just been sick in; wiping his mouth and staring at the happy reunion before him with wide, glassy eyes. "Merlin, Malfoy, what-"

Hermione lifted her head long enough to look over Ron's shoulder at him and Draco met her eyes with a broken smile. He couldn't seem to find his voice, yet. It would have concerned him, but he wasn't sure if he could feel anything, either, except the relief that Hermione, at least, was alright. And she wasn't crying anymore, although he felt sure he would be in another moment.

"Death Eaters came to the manor," she filled in as he continued to sit there silently. "Lucius is dead," she offered. She felt Ron's arms finally tighten around her the way Harry's had and looked up at him, then to Kreacher, suddenly desperate. Why hadn't they thought of it before? Why hadn't Draco ordered him away as soon as they'd arrived?

"Oh, Kreacher," she rushed, "Narcissa-"

The elf understood what she meant and was gone with a pop before any of them could blink. Perhaps, she thought, she was still alive. Perhaps the Death Eaters hadn't taken her. Maybe it wasn't too late. Draco didn't have to find himself an orphan just yet. She met his eyes again and felt Ron's hands on either side of her face, turning her eyes away from the pale blond.

"Tell us what happened, Hermione," he asked her and she looked up into his blue eyes, suddenly unsure what to say.

Draco finally spoke, surprised he even could without being sick again. "What she doesn't want to tell you is that I killed him," he offered dryly, his trademark smirk hovering ghost-like about his lips. "To be fair, he was trying to kill her."

"Shit, Malfoy," Ron said softly, turning to face Draco. Harry watched him silently with those unfathomable green eyes.

Kreacher popped back into existence, arms empty. Draco met the old elf's eyes without question and then he buried his face in his arms, his shoulders shaking with mute sobs. He wondered if this was his punishment for patricide. Hadn't Oedipus ended up blind? And Electra with harpies? Surely there was a terrible fate in store for him. One didn't kill one's father without justice being meted out eventually. Then again, he was crying openly in front of Potter and Weasley. Perhaps that was humiliation enough.

Not that he had enough dignity left to _be _humiliated.

"What happened, Kreacher?" Hermione asked the elf quietly, her face grim, itching to go to Draco, but knowing he didn't want comfort just then. He wanted to feel the enormity of things. It was the only way to live with them, with what he'd done- to let himself feel it for a moment and then move on.

"Mistress Narcissa killed some of them before they disarmed her. They asked her to reveal your whereabouts, but she would not and they killed her for it. Malfoy Manor is burning down."

Harry put his arms about Hermione and Ron and pushed them towards the still open doorway. "Go inside," he said. "I'll stay out here with him. We'll be fine. Thank you, Kreacher," he added softly. The house elf nodded and bowed low. "There's a room for you, too, unless you wish to be somewhere else," he added.

"Kreacher will be wherever Master Harry is," the old elf replied, before following Ron and Hermione.

Hermione continued to cast glances over her shoulder to Draco, her face worried. It meant her eyes weren't on the doorway, so she didn't see the face that appeared there. She heard the voice, however.

"Draco? Draco!" the girl cried out and flew from the doorway the way Harry had. She was wrapping her arms about his shuddering form in seconds flat and Hermione turned around, staring at the scene wide-eyed, jaw dropped.

"Ginny," she whispered, her entire body stiff in Ron's arms as she watched her tall, freckled friend embracing the man that now connected them.

He was savior to both of them, after all.

Ron looked down at her strangely and then back to his sister and Malfoy. "What is it, Hermione?" he asked, momentarily confused. Hermione looked to Harry, searching his face- had they all been in on it? Harry didn't meet her gaze; he was too busy watching the tender scene unfold, eyes for no one and nothing but the red-haired girl in front of him. He didn't seem awfully upset she was embracing Malfoy, either, Hermione noted.

With that thought, she broke away from Ron and marched across the yard to the two figures. "Ginny," she repeated helplessly, arms flapping by her side as she tried to think of what to say to her dear friend- the one she'd thought was dead this entire time.

"_Ginny_." Tears began to fall from her eyes and Ginny looked up at her, mirroring her shocked expression.

"Hermione!" the younger witch shrieked before catapulting to her feet and hugging Hermione even more tightly than Harry had.

"I thought- I thought you were _dead_," she explained as she sobbed into her friend's shoulder.

Ginny shook her head and held her closer. "Draco got me out, or I would have been. I nearly was," she added bitterly. "Blaise-"

"Me too," Hermione whispered. "Oh, Ginny. Me, too," she repeated and felt Ginny's hands go stiff on her back. Ginny pulled away and gave her a searching look.

"You were his," she said dumbly and Hermione nodded. Then, with a jerk of her head at Draco's still sobbing form, she said, "I was his. But Blaise…"

"How?" Hermione asked as the pieces of Draco's broken explanations so many nights ago came back to her and fell into place.

"He came into my cell. He was always…eyeing me. Beat me within an inch of my life. Draco found me, took the chance to get me out. I thought I would die again, from sheer joy, when I found Charlie was my contact. He got me though the tunnel and then Kreacher…there was another series of farms we traveled through- lots of sleeping in barns. I met up with Daphne at one of them. Helped me get here."

"Daphne Greengrass?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Yeah. Her sister was killed during the battle, you know. Sent her a little- crazy with rage, you could say. She was more than happy to help Draco." Upon saying his name, both girls looked down at him again and Ginny frowned. "What the hell happened?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's- come inside. I want a bath and a sleeping draught," she admitted. Ginny smiled at her and hugged her again.

"Go on. I'll be inside in a moment."

Hermione shook her head again. "If you're staying out here with him, so am I," she insisted. "I thought you were dead, Gin," she repeated softly. "I'm not letting you out of my sight yet."

At that, the figure on the ground made a noise that was nowhere near a sob and lifted his head. "For fuck's sake, Granger, _go_ _on_."

She knelt beside him and met his eyes. "I'm not leaving you, either," she said and his eyes hardened.

"You should. I think I'd like to kill you for making me do that," he replied and his mouth puckered again as he struggled to keep his head.

"I'd let you if it would actually make you feel better," she responded, "but I doubt it would." She judiciously left out the part about _her_ wanting to kill _him_ for letting her believe that Ginny was dead.

Her soft answer and softer hands smoothing back his hair were more than he could take and he pushed her away only to have her arms go about him tightly.

"Get off! Get away, you damned minx!" he snarled, but didn't struggle anymore. Seconds later, he bowed his head again and she felt his shoulders relax beneath her embrace. Squatting beside them, Ginny gave a sigh.

"So," she said softly, "that's how it is." Then she lifted her eyes to search out Harry's across the yard. He didn't smile, simply held out a hand and she looked back at Draco and Hermione one more time. Lifting her hand, she rested it briefly on first his shoulder, than hers. "I'm glad you're both back," she said quietly. Then she stood and walked over to Harry. She took his hand.

"Should we leave them here a moment?" she asked.

"Probably," he admitted, "but I'm loathe to let them out of my sight, now that we've got her back."

"I'll stand with you, then," Ginny replied and Harry's fingers tightened about hers.

"I thought you might."

Ron joined them a moment later and smiled sheepishly. "She _is_ our best friend," he explained and Harry nodded comfortably.

"She is."

None of them tried to qualify their relationship to Draco. It was more complicated than the word friend; more simple than the word acquaintance; and held far too many connotations; although it appeared to all three of them that Hermione had no doubts about her feelings for him whatsoever.

From the open doorway, Kreacher gave the scene a weary smile. He'd done his duty, at least, and he, for one, had no qualms about leaving all of them in order to get himself some rest. With a little, somewhat malcontented sigh, he shuffled into the last headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

* * *

**AN: What do ya'll think of THAT? Man, I am having a fantastic time with this. Hope you're enjoying being along for the ride! (And having absolutely NO SAY in the crap I'm spewing, LOL.) Kidding. I love all my dedicated readers!**


	12. In Which Draco Makes a Discovery

**I don't own HP AT ALL. Pooh.**

* * *

Hermione held him until well after he'd stopped crying. It was still dark outside, the half-moon sitting high in the sky, and Ron had finally gone back inside after Kreacher, leaving Harry and Ginny to stand their silent vigil over the two escapees.

There was another word that fit them as well, but Hermione's mind was elsewhere and though she knew her feelings for Draco were changing, she had no idea what to call them.

Draco gave one last shudder before he looked up into the face of the woman who'd stayed with him as he cried for his mother and father. For himself.

"Come into the house, Draco," she said softly, placing a kiss on his temple. Making him flush again. "You should be in bed. You were just sick a day ago."

"I should be in Azkaban," he muttered, but he stood up when she tugged on his arm. She didn't respond and he assumed she secretly thought the same thing. He met Harry's deep eyes and looked away. Harry stepped up and clapped a hand on his shoulder, nonplussed.

"I'm glad you're here, Malfoy," he said and the blond wizard shrugged.

"That makes one of us," he replied.

"Stop it, Draco," Ginny said. "You did what you had to do. Now come inside and stop making Hermione stand out in the cold air with you."

Hermione looked up at Ginny and smiled a little. She wondered if her friend was aware of how much like her mother she sounded. Draco frowned at the red-head.

"I didn't ask her to stay," he responded. Ginny grit her teeth.

"I'd slap you across the face for that, but you've just lost both your parents, so I understand you're a bit upset. Now get the fuck inside, Draco," she ordered and Harry caught Hermione's eye behind their backs.

"How long has she been like this?" Hermione whispered.

"Like Molly, you mean?"

"Yeah."

Harry smiled. "Since she heard you lot were coming back."

They fell into step beside each other, walking behind Draco and Ginny as they entered the old, but warm, farmhouse.

"How long has that been and how have you put up with it?" Hermione asked.

"Since we knew his plans…let's see…been about two months," he answered and Hermione gasped. Draco had been planning her escape for so long? Wonders never _would_ cease. She felt a flush of affection for him sweep up her cheeks.

"As for putting up with it," Harry continued, "that was easy. It helped prepare us for having you back." He cast a cheeky grin at her and Hermione gasped again, this time sending a punch into his arm.

"Harry!" Hermione laughed with him a little and settled in against his arm, keeping her eyes on Draco's back. She wasn't upset with him; she knew perfectly well he'd switched back to his nasty, snide self because other people were around. Because he was angry and grieving. Because he was worried she wouldn't want to be around him anymore now that she was back with her real friends. She understood there was a lot going on for him emotionally just then and it was okay with her. Because she did intend on sticking with him. She wondered if she should tell him that right then or wait a while.

Watching him being pushed around by Ginny, she decided to wait a while. He'd have his fill of taking orders from women for quiet some time, she suspected. There was no need to tell him that by simply doing what he felt was his duty he'd picked her up as a prize. Or a stray. She probably resembled a stray more than anything else just then, she thought mildly.

Harry put his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. "I should tell you- Ron's fallen in love with Luna."

Hermione looked up at him, surprised. "Oh."

"He hasn't made a move yet because he wanted to ask you first."

Hermione snorted. "He never bothered to ask before. And why should he? He's a grown man."

"Before you were captured- before the end of the battle last year…" Harry paused, searching for the words. "You two had-"

"That was a long time ago, Harry. I never expected him to wait for me. This is war." Her eyes were trained on Draco as she spoke, watching to make sure Ginny fawned over him properly.

Harry looked at her seriously and, after a moment, smiled again. "I see."

Hermione rather thought he did. She was beginning to see an awful lot, herself. She wondered briefly what Draco saw before deciding it didn't matter…yet. As if he knew she was thinking of him, he picked that moment to look up from the kitchen chair he was seated in; receiving potions and food from Ginny's abusive, but nursing, hand; and meet her eyes. The same understanding they'd shared the last week passed between them and this time, he didn't look away from her.

* * *

Over the course of the next few days, Hermione made herself scarce from Draco's side- he wanted to be alone for a while, she thought- and reacquainted herself with her comrades and friends. There were more than herself and Ginny who could boast being saved by Draco's hand and it was touching, listening to their stories. She began to collect them the way she did all information: writing them down and storing them with her old library of material. Harry and Ron had saved what they could of hers and had kept it safe for her, in the event she escaped.

"We knew you would, Hermione," Ron told her softly one cold, soggy afternoon. "I did, anyway. Harry was in a bad way for a while, though."

"But not you?" Hermione asked.

"I- I was too," Ron admitted gruffly.

"But for Luna," Hermione supplied and watched the red rise to his cheeks. "Don't be sorry, Ron, or embarrassed, or whatever you're going to say. I think it's wonderful," she murmured.

"You do?"

"I do. Which is why I want to know what you've done about it."

"I- will you be alright here by yourself a while, then?" he asked, standing up. "I just…have something I need to take care of. Just now, I mean. With-"

Hermione laughed. "Go on, Ronald," she said, waving him away. She had some work she wanted to do anyway. Harry was still trying to figure out where they'd gone wrong with the Horcruxes and Draco was right, he did need her help.

* * *

She was still puzzling over some old documents Harry had given her when she looked up and realized the light from the windows was fading rapidly. Getting up, she went and stood by the window, gazing out over the fields that seemed to stretch limitlessly from every side of the farmhouse. At the grey sky that kept them under constant cloud cover these days. She wondered again about the enchantments keeping them safe- of course, Harry's sacrifice was the biggest one. But there had to be others. She hadn't bothered asking because she knew Harry would never tell her, for the same reasons Draco hadn't told her anything. She was still too fresh, too new from her escape. They had to watch her, take care with her. Make sure she was fully recovered before they trusted her to stay sane all by her lonesome.

And while she did feel better than she had for the last several months, she knew it was a false serenity; the kind that comes from having the worst of the situation over. In another week she would probably start having nightmares and then the memories would be with her full time, keeping her jumping at every sound, at every hand on her shoulder. But for now she was calm and collected and the only things that gave her away were the scars on her back and the slightly wild gleam in her eye. The death wish that kept her from helping with the cooking and the training. She blinked and yawned, then turned back to her work. A movement in the doorway caught her eye and she looked up.

"Draco," she murmured, a little surprised.

He was looking at the books she had spread out on the small table and he stalked forward. "More Horcruxes?"

"There must be," she replied before sitting down. He took a seat next to her and gestured at the window.

"It's getting dark. Why haven't you lit the lamps?"

She looked around, bemused. The farmhouse was so isolated it wasn't even modernized. Hermione wondered, not for the first time, if they'd been transported to one of those Amish places in America.

"Hadn't gotten around to it."

He nodded as if it made perfect sense and pulled out a wand, lighting them for her with a quick charm. She smiled at him softly.

"Thank you, Draco."

He looked uncomfortable. "You're welcome, Granger."

"Why don't you try using my first name?"

He leaned back in his chair and smirked. "Hermione."

"That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

"I never said it was, Hermione. Maybe I just like your last name better."

"Because it's more impersonal?" she replied and the smirk disappeared. He rocked forward and leaned on the table, suddenly very interested in the open texts.

Hermione continued to make notes for some minutes and relaxed a bit, getting used to the tension of having Draco beside her. She wondered if he was upset she'd left him alone the last several days and decided it didn't matter. She couldn't read his mind. Besides, it had seemed like the best idea at the time. After all, she had sort of been the reason he'd pulled out the killing curse on his own father. She couldn't exactly be a nice reminder to have around.

When he spoke again, picking up the thread of conversation, she stopped writing.

"Can you blame me? For not wanting to get closer?"

"No," she replied evenly, despite the way her heart sped up. "But we're human too, Draco. Compartmentalizing your life that way hasn't kept you from feeling guilty."

"It hasn't," he repeated stupidly, still staring at the books. Hermione put down her quill and took one of his hands.

"I understand why you tried, though. Any of us would have done the same. You've nothing to be ashamed of, Draco."

"Except for being on their side in the first place," he replied, voice bitter.

"You can't think that way."

"And how should I think, Hermione? How can you even bear to look at me? Just because I helped you escape? How should that make up for anything?"

Hermione closed her eyes briefly and heard his jagged breathing as he tried to control himself again, control his emotions. She squeezed his hand before opening her eyes and turning to face him. She let go of his hand and then placed both of hers on either side of his face, turning him towards her, making him look at her.

"You're the one trying to make up for things, Draco," she told him firmly, keeping her eyes trained on his face. "No one else cares anymore. This is war," she said, repeating her words to Harry from days ago. "Just let it go, please. You have to move on so that you can embrace the man you've become."

His eyes softened as he looked at her and she felt a little less like a stray.

"And what sort of man is that, Hermione?" he asked her, his lips curving into a sad smile before she even answered.

The kind I'd like to kiss, she thought, but didn't say aloud. Instead, she said, "A good one," and watched as the curve of his lips deepened, despite the pain that still rested in his eyes.

Then she suited her actions to her initial thought.

Draco tried to tell himself he hadn't seen it coming, which was why she got in a good five seconds of kissing him before he broke away. It was a lie. He knew what she wanted to do, saw the way her eyes flicked down to his mouth before she leaned in and captured his lips to hers. He also tried to tell himself he hadn't been hoping she would do it again after that first kiss all those days ago in a long forgotten land. Or that he was heartily ashamed of himself for letting her do it.

So many lies.

Hermione gave him a hurt look when he pulled away and he immediately apologized.

"I'm sorry, Hermione- I can't take advantage-"

She frowned. "If I wanted an apology I'd ask for one," she replied and turned away. _Advantage_? He was going to sit there and pretend like her kissing him was _him_ taking advantage of _her_? Just to make himself feel better over his continued wallowing in manufactured guilt? God, he was a selfish, self-pitying jerk. If he hadn't just seen both his parents die, Ginny was right, she would have slapped him herself.

Draco watched her sit there, her arms crossed in anger, for another few seconds before he stood up.

"I _am_ sorry. I want- you know what? Never mind." He turned and walked to the door, hoping she would call to him. When she didn't, he turned around and looked back at her. She was still sitting there, arms crossed, jaw set. Was her lower lip trembling? Shit. Had he made her cry? He walked back over to her and sat down again.

She snorted. "Make up your mind, Draco." A hand came up and brushed away an invisible tear angrily.

"I'm trying to," he replied. "I care about you, Hermione. But we're in the middle of this thing, still and you need time to recover- more than I do. I know you think you care for me because I saved you, but Ginny thought the same thing, too."

She looked at him again and he could see the tears shining in her eyes more clearly, although the expression on her face was merely curious now. "Ginny?" she asked and he glanced back down at the table.

"Her delusions disappeared the minute she was near Potter again, thank Merlin."

Hermione uncrossed her arms slowly. "Well of course she thought that, then. You and she-" she paused, searching for different words and Draco jerked his head.

"God, Hermione, you and I have done more than Ginny and I ever did." He gave her a disgusted look as if to say, how could you even think that?

Hermione frowned again. "But she was your…_slave_," she finally managed to spit out. "You had to do something so they wouldn't suspect you, didn't you?"

It was Draco's turn to snort. "I'm not the only actor in this room, Hermione," he pointed out rather calmly, he thought.

Hermione was quiet for a few seconds that stretched into minutes while she contemplated this new information. It seemed she had vastly underestimated Draco's intelligence and compassion. No wonder Ginny had fancied herself in love with him. Savior in more ways than one- because he had been her "master," she'd been spared every indignity Hermione had suffered under Blaise. She shivered and crossed her arms again. She couldn't let herself think about those things right then. They really would drive her crazy. Besides, it was more important that she talked to him, made sure he knew that she wasn't acting when she kissed him. That she truly did intend to go with him from now on. Stick by him like glue. The way she'd always followed Harry. (Though it wasn't like she'd had a crush on Harry, ever- if that was even the word for what she felt for Draco. Which she highly suspected it _wasn't_, never mind the fact that Harry would tell the story that he and Ron had followed Hermione, a great deal of the time. Which _was _somewhat true, though not because Hermione was a born leader. It was just that she was smarter than Harry and Ron, most days.)

"That wasn't acting, Draco," she finally said and turned her eyes on him again. "Not for me."

The obvious, unvoiced question being, was _he_ acting? Draco rolled his eyes heavenward before sliding a hand down his face. Merlin, could he do this? Could he be with her without feeling desperately ashamed? Without wondering if he was just looking for validation for the man he'd become? He caught her gaze and reached for her hand. She slid away from him. Make up your mind first, she seemed to say, eyes accusing. No excuses. Don't be with me because you feel sorry for me or yourself. Because I'm just another "right thing to do."

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he opened his mouth again.

"I don't know what it is for me, yet," he finally told her softly. As gently as possible. "I've been more worried for you these last two weeks than I've ever been for myself, but I can't tell you what that means. And maybe I want you to kiss me," he continued, "because I _can't _decide. I won't make up your mind. I have to know this is what you want. What Blaise did- it was unforgivable and I can never fix it. But if you want me-" he paused and took another deep breath, "- if you want me to be there for you and hold you when you wake up screaming and brush away your tears, I'll do those things. Until it gets better. Until you _don't_ want me to do those things anymore."

He kept his eyes trained on her, watching her face for signs that he'd taken it too far, assumed too much. All he saw was a slight lift at the corners of her mouth.

Then she leaned forward and took his face in her hands again.

"Draco," she began, "I'll never want you to stop doing those things for me."

His breath caught in his throat and she let out a small laugh.

"But I can brush away my own tears just fine, thanks very much."

He felt his own mouth quirk itself into an answering smile. Then, without another word, he leaned forward and closed the space between their mouths. His heart raced.

Ah-ha.

So that's what it was, for him.

* * *

**AN: Omg. Fluff city up there, eh?**


	13. In Which Draco Proclaims Himself

**I don't own Harry Potter and this is making me no money whatsoever! Phooey.**

* * *

Draco sat back from the table while everyone else seemed to be crowding it determinedly; pushing their own agendas and opinion with a fervor he hadn't seen since he'd been an accepted member of the Death Eater community. He sneered and shook his head, confident they were all being idiots. Well, with the exception of Hermione- and maybe Harry- of course. Thinking of her, he glanced across the table to where she stood, going toe to toe with Cho Chang over something stupid the girl had suggested, and he smiled. Cho was another save on his part, but the girl had proven more trouble than he'd even expected with Hermione. She was hot and cold, with him and against him, the entire time he'd helped her. It had been more than a relief to hand her off to Charlie…which is what half the table was arguing about at the moment.

Horcruxes were one thing; it was quite another to just leave their friend and brother in the dark ages, which is what had effectively happened, with the Death Eaters' discovery of the tunnel. Charlie- and the witch who was with him, keeping the second safe house in that ancient city- would either have to face dozens of Death Eaters on their own, in an attempt to escape through the Malfoy tunnel, or be forced to travel back to Eric and Greta's and eventually through the Howling Forest in order to use the tunnel that led back to Hogwarts. Either way it was dangerous and foolish. (Especially considering they were still only assuming that Voldemort didn't know about the Hogwarts tunnel yet.) Even an experienced fighter and dragon trainer like Charlie wasn't likely to survive such an attempt. Ginny and Ron were both painfully aware of the fact and their faces were white as sheets as the continued to watch the arguing. They'd already had an earful from their own parents and other siblings- who were secreted at other Order safe houses- about the situation; and people seemed to expect them to do something about it.

Ridiculous, Draco thought. They're too close to the situation; if they went in on a rescue mission they'd likely just bungle it somehow and then we'd have three Weasleys- if Charlie was even still alive, a thought Draco entertained only briefly- stuck in that God awful place. Then we'd have to spare even more soldiers when what we really need is to figure out what the hell this other Horcrux- or Horcruxes- is. Are. Draco stood up.

"I'll go," he announced to a stunned room. Hermione stopped arguing immediately and turned to look at him with wide eyes. When Cho continued to speak, she put out a hand and shoved the other witch aside.

"Shut _up,_" she told her and focused on Draco. He shifted where he stood, suddenly uncomfortable with the way she was looking at him.

"Malfoy, you need some rest- don't feel like you have to volunteer. You've already done so much," Harry began, but Draco waved a hand at him.

"I insist. You won't change my mind. I'm the only person whom it makes sense to send." He lifted a hand and ticked off his fingers. "I've been there plenty of times before; I understand how the Death Eaters operate; I'm not particularly emotionally invested in everyone's safe return-" at that Hermione snorted, but Draco ignored her, "- and if we're forced to use the other tunnel, I have inside knowledge of the way the castle's set up now." He looked around the room, taking in each individual's face, but one. "I'm your best choice," he finished, shrugging.

"In that case, I agree," Harry replied.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed and he turned to look at her.

"Sorry, Hermione. He's right."

"I'll go with him," Ron offered and Ginny stood up as well.

"I should go," she said. "One man, one woman, remember? It makes our odds better, having two different thought processes to draw from."

Luna, who was as quiet and serene as she ever was, looked about the table smiling mildly. "Of course," she responded, smiling up at Ron. "We'll all go."

At that, Ron sighed and smacked his forehead before he sat back down, head in his hands. Draco barely hid his smirk.

"_I'll_ go," he said again. "Work it out amongst yourselves who comes with me, I don't care. But do it quickly. The faster you decide, the faster we can take care of the problem. There are more important things to discuss, if I'm not mistaken." With that, he turned and left the room, dozens of faces staring after him, somewhat bewildered and more than a little ashamed.

* * *

He wasn't surprised when Hermione came by his room not long after he'd exited the meeting. He was sharing a room with a couple of other fellows; and she found him standing in front of his small cot; methodically taking everything out of his charmed pouch and reevaluating it. Then he was putting the items back in the pouch one by one.

He was, essentially, packing and it made her angry enough to stalk up to him and snatch the pouch from his hands.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Packing," he replied, reaching for the pouch. She held it out of reach and he gave her an exasperated look, because it hid how he was really feeling.

"Hermione-"

"No, Draco. Tell me what's going on. Just offering yourself like that? That's not you-"

"On the contrary," he replied, getting upset himself, "aren't you the one who was telling me how good of a man I am now? Isn't that what good, courageous men do? Offer to take on impossible jobs?"

He could see her lip trembling again and she threw the pouch on the bed. "Fine. Go and get yourself killed, since you so obviously think it's a hopeless case."

"Hermione, that's not what I meant," he began, catching her shoulders before she could run off, as she clearly meant to do. "I just- I'm the logical choice. Don't argue it with me, it won't do any good. You're smarter than half of them- you knew it was only a matter of time before my name came up."

She stiffened for a second before she let out an injured sigh, along with half the tears in her eyes. "I know," she mumbled. "Doesn't mean I can't hope for different circumstances."

Draco pulled her into an embrace and felt her nestle her head on his shoulder. "I'm hoping too," he admitted. "But just because I don't particularly want to go back doesn't mean there's not still work to do. And don't go thinking this is about me sacrificing myself, or hoping to save even more people, or anything else like that," he finished sharply and Hermione let out a small laugh.

"Well, that goes without saying," she responded and felt him laugh in return. After another few minutes of silent company, she pulled away and looked up at him.

"Can I help you pack?" she asked and he nodded before placing a gentle kiss against her lips. She relaxed into the embrace and slid her arms around his neck.

Neither of them were entirely comfortable with the situation or their feelings just yet, but it wasn't stopping them from trying. Draco always cut her off at the kisses, though, for which she was secretly grateful. She wasn't sure when she'd be ready to move beyond that, but it seemed enough for both of them just to have the possibility on the table, for now. To know how they felt and know that after the war; if there ever was an after (and they would cross that bridge when they came to it); then they both wanted to at least try and take things further. It was enough.

Tongues tangled, lips swollen, and faces flushed, Draco finally pulled her arms from about his neck and smiled down at her nervously. There was a glint in his eyes that told Hermione he'd love to take things further, but he'd hate himself if he did. She landed one more kiss on his cheek before she moved away, more than a little anxious for her independence once more. He was still worried she had a hero-complex, she knew, and only time would convince him otherwise. Only time would help heal her own scars. She fervently hoped, not for the first time, that they both lived long enough to see it happen.

They talked as they went through the items and Hermione informed him what had happened after he'd left the meeting.

"Harry decided we should take a couple of days to plan it out and let people do a little…soul searching, I guess. He understands your reasons, but he doesn't want anyone else jumping into things. Personally I think Cho is the best choice since she so obviously _doesn't_ care if we get them back safe, but she didn't appreciate my suggestion."

Draco laughed and eyed her warily. "You're not thinking of going, are you?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't ever want to go back to either of those places," she admitted.

"And I'd never ask you to," Draco inserted seriously, stilling her motions with a hand on her arm.

"I know," she replied, looking up at him. "Which is why I decided to go with you."

"Hermione-"

"Don't try and change my mind, Draco," Hermione warned, stepping away. "It's made up."

"Then I won't go, if you're so determined to follow me."

"Yes, you will. You'd just tell me that to keep me from going and then lie and find some excuse to go off anyway. I know you, Draco. I've watched you for months now and known you even longer; and while the conversation may not have been good and the circumstances even worse; you're the sort of selfish man who'll do what he wants, no matter who gets hurt. Well it's too bad, how you feel, but I'm going with you," she finished fiercely and he ran a hand through his hair, eyes trained on her the entire time.

"I take it back. You're a complete idiot," he told her and she let out a high pitched, humorless laugh.

"And you're not?" she retorted.

He sighed and began to put the items on the bed back into the pouch, not bothering to check them out. "I knew you were going to be more trouble than you're worth eventually," he said, "I just didn't expect it to happen over this."

Her lip trembled and he swore.

"Hermione, you know what I meant-"

"I know," she replied. "I just wish you'd stop and think-"

"And I wish you'd do the same bloody thing! And what did Potter and Weasley say when you told them the wonderful news, huh? You haven't, have you? Like they'll let you go- and what about wanting people not to make rash decisions? Waiting a few days?"

"I," she said clearly, "am not other people."

Draco threw the pouch back on the bed again with a roar and advanced on Hermione, who backed away from him slowly (although in the small room it hardly mattered).

"Like hell you aren't- you're the only bloody girl in the world for me and I've just spent the last several months trying my damnedest to find a way to keep you safe, never mind the last hellish weeks- and now you're insisting on following me back into what can only be a Death Eater trap? No, you're _not_ other people, Hermione, which is exactly why I'd rather cut off my right hand than have you follow my back there! Don't you bloody understand a single thing I've been telling you the last week?" He took her by the shoulders again and gave her a little shake. She stared up at him, white-faced, lip still trembling.

And just a little turned on…but mostly scared shitless.

"I _love _you, you damned minx," he whispered roughly before he crashed his lips to hers.

Hermione didn't need any encouragement as she felt her fear rush from terror of what he might do to excitement at what he was doing- kissing her as if his life depended on it, as if he could convince her not to go with three stupid, but wonderful, words- and she responded eagerly; opening her mouth to his tongue, letting his almost feral attack on her senses overwhelm her. She wrapped her arms around him and felt him draw her closer into the curve of his body, as if he could wish their clothing away just by holding her tighter. She wasn't sure where his pulse ended and hers began, but the rushing in her ears wasn't doing her any favors; it blocked out every noise but the sound of his heart and was sending a warmth pooling deep in her stomach, making her toes curl with heat and want.

She barely realized what she was doing until he pulled away long enough to hitch her leg back up around his hip- had she really wrapped herself around him that way? He met her eyes long enough to let her see what he was about before he lowered his mouth to her skin again and began eliciting some very interesting sound from her mouth, via the tender skin of her neck. And even then she knew that he wouldn't stop this time unless she asked him to.

Which was probably why it was a _good_ thing that Harry picked that moment to knock on the door and open it (since there was no way she was going to tell Draco no). At least, that's what they both agreed later on, after he'd left them to one another- Draco with his head buried in Hermione's neck, panting hard against her skin as he searched for some self control; and Hermione, gasping for breath as she nearly came apart right there, against the wall of the old farmhouse with Draco's pronounced problem pressed against hard against her.

To his credit, Harry didn't bother to apologize before he shut the door again. Hermione didn't think his ears had even turned red. He'd probably seen far worse at this stage of the war.

And then that was that and Draco was gently putting her leg back down and she was removing her arms from around his back and his hands were tenderly, if a bit awkwardly, rearranging the collar of her shirt.

"Did you mean that?" she asked when they could both breathe again and were standing on opposite sides of the room.

He ran a hand over his hair self-consciously. "Yes. Probably. I think." He sighed and turned back to the items on the bed. "Yes," he finished softly, defeated.

Hermione watched him for a few minutes before she closed the distance between them and stood by his side, looking down at the same items. She took his hand and it was enough for any remaining tension to dissipate.

He already knew how she felt, after all.

Now, they were even.

* * *

**AN: Haha, had you all for a minute there, didn't I? :) More on the horcruxes and needless drama soon!**


	14. In Which a Disturbing Suggestion Is Made

**Don't own HP and make no money from this fiction. **

**AN: I have to defend my long absence- Friday night and well into Saturday, experienced technical glitches which prevented me from uploading this chapter (GRRRR), despite its being completed when I promised it would be. So. And then I was gone from Sat. afternoon to tonight, but here it is at long last. More soon, I hope, although I have been cheating on my other writing projects with this one in a massive way that is far too time consuming for my self-proclaimed editor's tastes. So I may slow down a bit. (But just a bit- I'll see what I can do.) Love to you all, as always.**

* * *

Harry rolled his eyes as he tried to mediate the confrontation between Ginny and Hermione.

"You are not going with him, Hermione- you're not thinking straight!"

"I'll go where I damn well please, unless you're planning on turning me into a prisoner, too, Ginny Weasley."

Ginny reeled back from Hermione's retort as though she'd been slapped and Hermione bit her lip nervously, but she didn't apologize.

"You know what? Fine. Go with him. You can get lost and rot in there with Charlie, for all I care," she hissed before turning and rushing from the room. Hermione watched her go, jaw set and eyes heavy.

"What?" she flung at Harry when she noticed him frowning at her.

"It's not like that, Hermione," he replied. "She's really worried about you. We all are."

"I'm not a china doll," she responded automatically, sitting back down to her books.

"No, but you are a woman who just got out of four hard months of imprisonment and torture. Ginny knows what Blaise was like and that was only one meeting. It isn't hard to imagine what he forced you to endure," he said softly, sitting beside her.

Hermione didn't look up at him, only stared at the information before her as it blurred beneath her tears. "I don't want to talk about that," she replied and he put a hand on her arm, closed the books.

"Maybe you should. Maybe talking to Ginny would help. Or," he added, sighing a little with frustration, "even Cho."

"I talked to Draco."

"I'm sure your loving one another right now is doing wonders for you, Hermione, but he's not a woman."

Hermione let out a soft snort of laughter at the image the words brought up and looked at Harry. He wasn't smiling.

"When did you get like this?" she asked. So wise, she thought. "Was it while I was gone?"

Harry finally smiled sadly, easing her nerves some. "Losing you was the worst thing we- Ron and I both- could have imagined. It forced us to do some growing up. But I think it didn't help when we got Ginny back. It was bad enough, seeing the other girls Draco sent in- even some of the boys- but she was the first we were close to, both of us. And to hear what Blaise had done, had tried to do…it only reminded us of you."

Hermione's fingers twitched on the closed covers of the books and she drew her arms in and around her middle. "Whatever you happened to Ginny, whatever you think happened to me-" she drew a deep, shuddering breath and paused before the words came rushing out.

"It was so much worse," she moaned and rocked back and forth with small motions, as if she could calm the churning in her stomach. "It was so, so much worse, Harry," she breathed again, keeping a stranglehold on her tears, sucking them back into her with every deep breath she took.

Harry put a hand on her shoulder and she shied away from the motion. So. The time of serene acceptance was over and she had to grieve now. That wouldn't put a damper on her plans. No, not all. The tears began spilling out and she clenched her fists before she stood up abruptly, knocking Harry's hand away from her.

"Hermione…" She turned to him, expecting to see hurt and when it wasn't there, it made her cry harder.

And then there was a small gasp from the doorway and Ginny was in the room again and glaring at Harry to leave and she had a girl to cling to. The sort of thing she hadn't had for months- that she'd taken for granted before she'd been locked up like a fucking veal, but would never take for granted ever again. She wept hard and long over that, and many, many other things.

And even when the tears subsided into great, gasping sobs for breath and the occasional hiccup, she knew she had days- weeks, months, years- of weeping to look forward to; because she'd have to pull out every memory and inventory them all, carefully and slowly, so that she would never forget them; and then forgive herself for being a victim and put them all away again, just as carefully. And she'd probably weep some more, after that was done.

But then, at the end of it, she would be able to live again.

Her arms crept around Ginny's back and she held her tight as her red-haired friend stroked her hair and back and told her it was okay to cry. That was nice, because it was better than being told everything would be alright. None of them knew, after all, if everything would be alright. At least, she thought as she cried all over Ginny's hair and blouse, Blaise is dead. Draco- wonderful, heroic, selfish Draco- killed him. For me.

Which brought another round of weeping, of course, because it only reminded her of him killing his father, too, and all the grief he was feeling and then she felt guilty afresh.

* * *

Ginny eventually managed to calm her down some and Hermione came back to herself and sat up, still rubbing at her eyes. When she'd done with that and was able to peer at Ginny blearily, she noticed they weren't alone. Luna had joined them and was sitting nearby quietly, that serene expression on her face, even if it was tinged with concern.

"Luna," she said. Then, "I'm awfully glad you're both here."

Luna smiled. "It was the pixie knockers, I expect. They do tend to bring back bad memories. One got me in the battle and that awful Fenrir nearly took me out as a result. I was very lucky," she said wisely. "Will you be alright now? Ron is standing outside and wants to know if he and Harry can come in. They are still your best friends, aren't they?"

Hermione smiled weakly. "I suppose so," she murmured, only somewhat surprised that it was true. "Yes, it's alright," she said a little louder and then there were five of them in the space and all getting their hugs and Luna even landed a soft kiss on Hermione's head and expressed how glad she was the older witch was back. Hermione didn't bother to wonder where Draco was; she knew he was making himself scarce by helping the other Order members with training and strategy.

"Now, let's get back to the Horcruxes," Ginny said, after shooing the boys away from Hermione like the mother hen she was.

Hermione nodded her agreement and opened up the books again. "Well, we know- or at least assume- because of Harry's sacrifice that he can't have made a new one since the Second Battle. So, we're looking for something that had meaning to him before the war."

"His original wand is still our best bet, right?" Ron asked and Hermione nodded.

"He murdered enough people with it," Ginny said, voice stiff. She was holding Harry's hand tightly.

"But in order to get close enough to it to destroy it, we have to infiltrate the castle and we have no way of doing that," Luna said. "Unless, of course, you get the puss-bottoms to let you in. Though they aren't always very nice."

Ron looked at Luna thoughtfully. "Do those really exist?" he asked, his expression hopeful.

Hermione rolled her eyes, though she was smiling. "Nothing in that castle is very nice anymore," she said and Luna returned her smile.

"Draco was very nice," she countered and Hermione rolled her eyes again.

"Draco's not in the castle anymore," drawled a voice from the doorway and Hermione looked up to meet said wizard's eyes. He stalked into the room and leaned against a wall. "What is this?" he asked. "Strategy meeting? Decided who's going with me yet?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth only to be railroaded by Ginny.

"No, so stop asking. We'll let you know if a few days, unless you have someone in mind."

Draco's eyes flicked back to Hermione and he let a small, lazy smile grace his lips. Ginny followed his line of sight and glared at him.

"Not you, too."

"Seems to me she has her mind quite made up."

Hermione smiled broadly at him.

"I hate you both," Ginny said calmly and Draco laughed.

"So, what about the Horcruxes?"

"We were thinking," Harry interjected, "of his wand. The old one, not the Elder Wand, since that's not really his to begin with."

"Ah," Draco said. When he didn't follow up his comment, Ron threatened him with bodily harm if he didn't elaborate immediately. It shook Draco from his thoughts. "Sorry, Weasley. Just thinking…it makes sense, actually. He keeps the thing under lock and key, from what I remember. Unless things have changed since the last time I was in his office."

"His office?" Harry made the mistake of asking.

Draco's eyes flicked to him and around the room before he explained, "The Headmaster's Office. He took it for his own. Some sort of sick joke." His face was apologetic, as if he hadn't wanted to tell them, but thought it better if they knew the truth.

Harry was suddenly more angry than he'd been in a long while. Ginny held his hand tighter.

"He'd dare to sit where all those- those good, no _great_ men sat?"

"It's a mockery," Hermione said softly, meeting Draco's eyes again. "And he did it on purpose. To fulfill his own desire to belong at Hogwarts, to hold dominion over it, and to piss you off, the way you are right now."

"I'm going to kill him," Harry said, very seriously.

Ron sighed. "We know, mate."

* * *

A few hours later, after they'd debated and argued and planned and broken for dinner and come back together for more of the same, Draco said something interesting.

"You know, if all you have to go on to figure out what the Horcruxes are- were- is murder and something that held meaning for him, why haven't you considered actual buildings? You know, where he lived?"

Harry blanched and Draco eyed him warily. "Going to be sick, Potter?"

Hermione shook her head, amazed and surprised. Why hadn't they considered that? She may have, once or twice on her own, but it had never seemed feasible. And hadn't Dumbledore led them down a different path of ideas? But now…she glanced at Harry.

"It's just that…to create one small Horcrux is bad enough," she replied. "To turn an entire building- an entire castle- into one? Do you know how many murders would have to be committed?"

"You're the one who brought up Hogwarts, Hermione," he pointed out. "I was just thinking of the orphanage and his family home."

"But using Hogwarts would make sense, wouldn't it?" Ginny responded. "Except he shouldn't have been able to kill anyone."

"Any one of the prisoners, maybe," Draco said. "And he didn't. He had us- them," he corrected himself, "do that for him. I guess we never thought it was because he physically couldn't do it. Not that it matters. He had plenty of Death Eaters and other slaves brought in- muggle homeless and the like- whom he could kill. Sorry, Potter," he directed at Harry when said wizard blanched again. "Your sacrifice went a long way, but you're not the Christ-child."

"So what we're saying _might_ be true," Ron began, "is that not only do we have to somehow get into the school, get and destroy his wand- which is under lock and key by good 'ol Adolf himself- and get everyone out who ought to be out, we have to destroy the school, too?"

"With Fiendfyre," Hermione added.

"I don't know how I feel about burning down Hogwarts," Ginny admitted.

With a small cough, Luna spoke up. "To be perfectly fair," she replied, "I don't think anybody will want to go to school there anymore after everything that's gone on; so I doubt anyone will mind." She paused and looked about the group, smiling serenely. "Do you?"

Hermione wondered if she would ever _not_ find that serenity somewhat unnerving and amusing at the same time. She rather hoped not. It certainly kept them all on their toes.

"No, Lovegood," Draco replied with feeling, "I don't. But after we've set the place blazing, we still have to make a stand with the bastard himself, right? So that Potter can take him out properly."

"Do we know how long it would take Hogwarts to burn down? If we use the Fiendfyre, I mean. Because it seems to me we can't take out you-know-bloody-who until every possible Horcrux is destroyed," said Ron.

"I can do some calculations," Hermione responded, suddenly feeling very tired. "But I think that we all have quite enough to think about for tonight. We need sleep. This subject is draining."

Ron grunted his agreement and held out a hand to Luna, who followed him blithely. "See you in the morning," he said, waving a hand to everyone. Dropping a kiss on the top of Hermione's head. Then he and Luna were out the door.

Hermione sat there with a funny look on her face as she watched everyone else shuffle out, each of them paying her especial attention. Until it was just her and Draco. He pushed off the wall and walked over to her, sitting in the spot Harry had just vacated.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. She turned to him, eyes full of tears and head full of memories.

"No," she said simply and fell into his arms. He tucked her head against his shoulder and began to make the same motions Ginny had made hours earlier.

"Do you want to talk?"

She shook her head.

"It's all of this- the castle," he supplied and she nodded that time. "I knew you would have to go back eventually," he admitted. "For the battle. But this is going to be far worse, isn't it?"

She didn't say anything, only continued to cry, as he imagined Ginny was doing with Harry right at that moment. Maybe even Cho with whatever wizard she'd picked up. He didn't begrudge any of his girls- and a small part of him couldn't help thinking of them that way- the right to weep over this news. Over any of it. They deserved the chance to air their feelings, and so much more. They deserved to have their respect and dignity back; and to be treated like the experienced, smart, and wonderful witches they still were, despite everything that had happened to them.

Draco could give Hermione that much, at least, though he didn't want to and didn't like it. It was her right. She wasn't a prisoner; she was brilliant and he needed to respect that.

"Well, it's best if I keep you with me, then, isn't it? Someone has to keep an eye on you," he whispered into her hair and he felt her still in his arms. Then she lifted her head and looked at him, red-eyed and world-weary.

She was still the most beautiful girl he'd seen in years. Maybe the rest of his life, if he was very, very fortunate.

She smiled. "Yes," she said. "Somebody does."

"Mind if I apply for the job?"

She shook her head. "It's quite perfect, really."

"Why's that?"

"Because someone has to keep an eye on you, as well."

Draco let out the laugh that bubbled up inside him. How did he get so lucky? Perhaps it was karma rewarding him for stepping up and taking his punishment like a man, instead of the coward he'd once been. He decided he would take a hundred Crucios if it meant even one moment with Hermione like this one.

"And you're applying for that position, are you?"

"Draco," she responded, exaggerated exasperation in her voice, "what a stupid question."

In the darkened study on the first floor of the farmhouse, he drew her further into his arms. "And you, Hermione, are a stupid, stupid girl."

"Why's that?" she asked, parroting his own query.

"Because," he drawled, "you've stayed down here, in a dark room, with only me for company."

Her reply was lost to his lips.

* * *

**AN: I feel the story has entered true romance novel territory here, but have no fear. That will be over soon. I have drama a-plenty for you, coming soon!**


	15. In Which Steps Are Taken

**I don't own HP or make any money off this fic.**

* * *

It took another day for them to come up with a plan- something solid, that would cover all their bases and most of the possible outcomes before they acted.

Draco, of course, had to take the tunnel back into the time slip in order to save Charlie and his partner. With a partner of his own- no one was willing to name Hermione just yet- Draco would continue back to the tunnel that led straight into Hogwarts. From there, the team would attempt to smuggle out as many remaining prisoners as possible. Draco was charged to try and take the wand himself; but if that plan failed, then at some point, any other secret entrances or tunnels that could be secured without notice would be taken; and a special few Order members would enter the school to help with the burning process _and_ the wand.

They hoped to lure Voldemort out of the school before the burning began, but since that was simply an unpredictable part of the plan, they decided to just try and be as prepared as possible for _every_ outcome. Which meant at least a few more days of more training; some spell researching and curse-laying; and of course the burning of any other buildings Voldemort may have found himself particularly attached to. Harry had a bit of trouble keeping his food down while they discussed those possibilities, but he managed to pull through alright.

They also had to be prepared to mobilize all their other secret bases of wizards, witches, and magical creatures against Voldemort's own mobilized armies; of which there were more than anyone cared to consider. However, as a great many of the members of his army were under threat of death or flat-out Imperioused, Hermione had speculated that they would be willing to stop fighting once they heard of his death. This thought made them all feel a little better.

Except Hermione, who was increasingly aware of exactly what could, and might, go wrong. For instance, if Draco got back into Hogwarts and was caught and not allowed to explain himself (because if he were caught then of course he would have to tell a parcel of lies, but that was _necessary_, damn it). Or if the Death Eaters didn't buy the lies he was telling. Or if he got to the wand and it turned out to be a trap. Or if he got the wand and it _wasn't_ a trap, but he ended up facing Voldemort on his own.

The possibilities were endless and they were driving her more than a little mad.

Not once, of course, did she think about her own safety. _Her_ safety didn't really matter anymore, not now that they had a plan and her brains were no longer necessary. Not now that Harry and Ron were both safely in love with wonderful girls who could help them pick up the pieces if something happened to her. Which was exactly why it was best for her to go with Draco. By his side was where she could effect the most good.

She pointed all this out to Harry for what felt like the tenth time after dinner that night. They'd had a very long day at the start of what promised to be another long week. They would be putting the plan in action the following morning; with Kreacher's help and a small team to fight off any Death Eaters who were guarding the tunnel on the Malfoy estate; and the group had yet to officially decide who was going with him. When Hermione brought it up to Harry, with the assumption that they'd agreed to let her go, she'd met with a stoic silence.

Which was also driving her a little mad. Sure, she'd had another small break-down that morning after breakfast, but she was _fine_. After all, she'd be forced to fight in the final battle anyway, wouldn't she? And, as she pointed out gleefully, she was one of their few members who was confident that she'd finally experienced enough magic in action to successfully wield Fiendfyre. (It wasn't her fault that she couldn't exactly _practice _wielding it unless she wanted to attract unwanted attention to their small country farmhouse.)

"Besides which," she was saying to Harry, "I've just been there. I can be more help to him than anyone else at the moment!"

"Hermione," Harry sighed, "don't worry about it. I mean, I can't speak for anyone else, but I know you're well capable. But that's not how we're doing things right now, so you'll have to sit tight. Look, I'm sure it will be fine. Just…get some rest tonight, have a cuddle with Malfoy, or something."

"Draco thinks I'm alright," she insisted stubbornly. "If you think you're going to send him off without me, you've another thing coming, entirely. He _wants_ me to go," she said.

"Go to bed, Hermione," Harry repeated, but with a roll of his eyes that gave Hermione some hope. She said goodnight and watched him leave with a small smile on her lips, mind still rapidly processing information: routes and plans, charms and counter curses.

Rather than follow his advice right away, she sat back down to her books. If she was going to be any help to Draco, or the others for that matter, she needed to be well-equipped. Besides, Harry wanted her to lay some defensive curses on the farmhouse and its land in case of discovery; and she couldn't do that and go with Draco at the same time- so it would have to be done tonight.

* * *

Draco found her an hour later, head bent low over the books, dozing. He smiled and sat beside her, running a hand through her curls idly. She started a little at his touch, but smiled as soon as she saw who it was.

"What time is it?" she asked sleepily before looking back at the books and scrolls.

"Time for us to get some sleep," he replied. "Big day tomorrow."

She nodded absentmindedly and began closing and stacking the materials. "I'm worried they won't let me go with you."

"You worry too much, Hermione," he replied. "Come on, I'll walk you to your room."

They passed two figures seated on the couch in the small living room on their way to the stairs. Hermione smiled softly as she realized it was Ron and Luna. He was holding her tightly and she was speaking soothing words to him, ever calm and collected. He looked as though he wanted to cry and Hermione frowned, tugging on Draco's arm.

"What do you think is the matter?" she whispered to him. He paused on the stairs and turned to look back down at them.

"Every goodnight we say these days is a goodbye, Hermione," he replied. "I imagine he wishes she didn't have to see any of this. Didn't have to go into battle."

"Oh." She followed Draco quietly a moment longer and drew closer to him. "He's being ridiculous. Luna is a brilliant witch. Sometimes I wonder if the things she believes in…well. Her believing in them has only made her a better witch, really. She can hold her own. Ron should be proud of her."

Draco cast a glance over his shoulder at her. "And you, Hermione? Can you hold your own?"

He passed the room she shared with some other witches and stopped at the small window seat at the end of the long hallway. He sat and drew her down beside him before he put an arm about her shoulders and pulled her close.

"What sort of question is that?" she asked quietly.

"An honest one. It's only been two weeks, Hermione. Two weeks isn't enough time to get over all that."

She turned and buried her face in his chest. "I don't have time to get over it right now, Draco. It will take years."

His arm tightened and she felt his heart speed up. Gently, he drew her face away from his chest and looked into her eyes.

"When you're ready to start," he asked, his voice quite serious, "would you let me be there for you? I'm going to have to- no, let me finish," he said, placing a single, slender finger over her lips. Hermione shushed obediently for once and observed him with her large, dark eyes. Draco's face took on a strained appearance, as though he had to force himself to return her unflinching gaze.

"I'm going to have to go back there and do some terrible things, Hermione," he continued. "I know you will, too, don't interrupt me. But the point is…I don't know if I can go back there and pretend to be a part of it all again and not go out of my mind. So, if I do make it out alive, I need at least one thing to hold onto. I need to know that in going back, there's a bloody reason for it. Because I think that if I have to go back in without knowing I've got you to come back for on the other side of it all, I'd rather just die in there. I'd rather _die_-"

"You won't have to," Hermione gasped, pulling his hand away from her mouth, looking up at him with shining eyes. "I want you to be the one, Draco, so don't you dare go getting yourself killed for _any_ reason, do you hear me? Besides," she added, "you'll have to stay alive to make sure nothing else happens to me. If I go in with you I'm sure to end up in…in the dungeons again," she choked out. "And you'll have to play your part brilliantly if you want me to be there for _you_."

He seemed to relax a bit and drew her back to him. "Of course," he breathed into her hair. "Of course."

Hermione melted against his chest and then tilted her head back, meeting his lips. Draco kissed her hesitantly, as if she might break, and she pushed her head up to his. They wouldn't have time for kisses like this once tomorrow came and Hermione wanted to savor every intimacy she could. She would be able to draw strength from the memory of his lips on hers when she was down there again. In the dark, with other men's hands on her.

She felt the tears slipping from her eyes and Draco's fingers brushed them away before he parted from her.

"Silly minx," he whispered, his voice husky. "You do need me to brush your tears away."

She let out a small laugh and kissed him again. Draco wrapped his arms around her and held her close, finally kissing her the way she wanted him to: demanding, persuasive. Gentle. His hands left her back and found her face, cradling it tenderly as he plied her lips open, slid his tongue along her lips. Set her body on fire. She tried to inch closer to him, but his arms held her off and she let out a soft whine. She realized, at the same time he did, what that whine meant. _More_. She wanted more. He wouldn't give it to her.

Instead, he kissed her twice more, very softly and sweetly, and then hugged her to him.

"Not tonight, Hermione. When this is over and we're all thinking more clearly…then. Maybe. For now, I want to just…hold you a little."

Hermione was quiet, but gave into his request. She liked being held, too. Eventually, she felt her lids grow heavy with sleep once more and Draco was rocking the back and forth ever so slowly…she didn't really notice when he stood up and took her in his arms; or when he quietly nudged open the door of her room and deposited her on her bed. She opened her eyes to see him leaning over her, kissing her lips softly again and then her forehead; smoothing a hand across her brow and pulling her covers up to her chin.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered against her brow and she smiled. She opened her mouth to respond and felt him put a finger over her lips again.

"Shh," came his response. "Good night. I'll see you soon."

"Good night," she finally replied, her eyes following him to the door. He exchanged one last, long glance with her and then closed the door.

* * *

Hermione shut her eyes again, happy for sleep to overtake her. Her mind was still full of plans and spells and the ever present smell of the dark dungeon she'd been captive to, but those few precious moments with Draco had given her enough peace that she wasn't afraid to sleep, now. He loved her, even if he wasn't sure of her feelings for him, even if he still doubted why she would ever love him.

Which was just silly of him. She owed him her life and the life of some of her dearest friends. She owed him her sanity and her health. She owed him the chance to take revenge, by helping her live through all that. And it wasn't just that she owed him so much more than she could ever repay; it was the look in his eyes when he thought of what had happened to her and those like her. It was the strength she saw in him and the anger at injustice. The guilt he bore for his small part in the enemy's plans. The determination to overcome that guilt.

He was a good man and that was enough to make any woman swoon in times like these. Tomorrow, she would start trying her best to make him see that, despite all the other work they had to do. She would find moments here and there, like he had tonight, to show him how good he was. To show him how much she believed in him. Tomorrow…

Sleep was just hovering at the edge of her consciousness when she felt herself slam back into reality. He hadn't just said good night…he'd said good bye. He'd meant what he told her earlier, when they'd seen Ron and Luna. And then he'd kissed her and whispered he would see her soon.

He'd said the exact same thing two weeks ago, the night he'd gotten her out. He'd said…she was out of her bed like a shot and stumbling around in the dark, reaching for her cloak and the wand she'd been given; and then she was opening the door and racing out into the hall. A flash of light outside caught her eye and she ran back to the window seat she and Draco had vacated what felt like seconds before. Breathlessly, she knelt on the seat and looked outside at the scene below.

Draco and Luna were standing there, with Ron and Harry watching as they checked over some supply packs one last time. Her eyes took in the worried looks on her friends' faces and the implacable calm upon Luna and Draco's visages. In horror, she banged on the window pain. Saw Draco look up at her through the firelight. Saw his expression change, harden. Saw Kreacher come out into the clearing.

She banged again, once, before she was off the seat and hurtling down the hallway, tripping her way down the stairs and through the front rooms. She made it to the front door and wrenched it open, stepping out onto the small porch in time to see Draco and Luna taking Kreacher's hands.

"No! Take me! You said- Draco!" she yelled, ready to stumble forward those last few steps, but for the way Ron's arms snaked about her waist and held her from them. "Let me go!" she shouted through the tears she felt bubbling in her eyes and throat.

Draco's face turned towards her once again, conflict apparent upon it. "Hermione-" she thought he might have mouthed, but then with a pop they were gone. She collapsed in Ron's arms and he went down with her, still holding her.

"I'm scared too, Hermione," he was mumbling into her hair. "I'm so scared-"

She nodded against him wordlessly as she stared at the spot where he'd just been; standing so close she could have touched him; wanting Kreacher to come back and take her to him; hoping it had all been a misunderstanding.

Kreacher didn't come back.

Hermione finally put her arms around Ron as well and held him as he cried against her, the only time he would. Her eyes swept about until she saw Harry again and she glared at him.

"It wasn't my idea, Hermione," he explained, "although I guess that doesn't help you any. We need you here right now," he said, chin taking on a stubborn edge and Hermione let the glare slide off her face.

There wasn't a point, anymore. She wondered if one had ever existed.

"I know. I knew he would do something like this all along," she admitted. "I just wish things could have been different."

"I'm pretty sure he wishes that every second he's alive," Harry replied softly. "So don't blame him too much, when you see him again."

"How do you know I will?" Hermione asked, her own voice breaking a little.

Harry shrugged and joined her in staring at the spot they'd gone from. "It's not too hard to figure out. Narcissa Malfoy died for you two. Sacrificed herself for your safe escape." He turned to her again. "If I remember correctly, that's a powerful kind of magic, isn't it?"

Hermione could have killed him for the grin that was threatening his face, but she felt an answering one spread across her own.

"Do you think it will protect him from me?"

* * *

**AN: HAHAHAHAHAHA. Ha. I told you it was drama time and it is, boo-yah! :)**


	16. In Which News Is Received

**Don't own Hp, as per usual.**

**AN: I'm totally cheating on some of the action scenes, here. Don't worry, there will be real battle at some point. But today is not that day! Lol.**

* * *

Draco and Luna had to battle off three guards almost immediately. Fortunately, Luna had as few compunctions against issuing terrible curses as Draco did.

Which was to say, not at all.

He stood over the body of a downed Death Eater, breathing hard with the adrenaline rush and watching Sectumsempra make its twisted, bloody wounds across the man's body. It was funny, but the curse didn't even bother him to say anymore. Lucky for him. Unlucky for this poor sot. He looked up to see her watching him with those unfathomable blue eyes and smiled tightly.

"Ready to go, then? I imagine there will be more Eaters in the tunnel and probably a small fuck-ton waiting for us inside the city."

"You didn't have to leave her that way," she replied and he stared at her hard, confused.

"What?"

"Hermione, I mean. She would have stayed if you'd-"

"With all due respect, Lovegood, I couldn't take that chance."

"I understand where you're coming from," she responded evenly. "And I think she will, too. But all the same, you didn't have to be so dramatic about things." Then she dusted off her free hand and stepped over the remains of the man she'd blown up. Draco eyed the mess in disgust and Luna looked back down at him mildly.

"Sorry about the mess," she said. "He caught me off guard and it sort of…slipped out. I think I meant to petrify him instead."

"You know what, Lovegood?"

"What?"

"I'm not the sort of partner who cares very much what you do to them."

"Oh. Well, that makes it easier on me, then," she replied and he let out a short laugh before escorting her into the tunnel entrance. Kreacher followed behind slowly, mumbling something about being glad he no longer had to clean up Master Draco's messes.

* * *

Hermione didn't go to sleep again that night, or the night after that. Instead, she worked like a mad woman to lay curses and create plans and maps as the other members teamed up and got ready for battle. Ron sat right beside her resolutely as she worked, helping when he could, which was touching. Ginny and Harry stayed out of both their ways, which was useful. And the rest of the Order accepted what they told them calmly and even pleasantly, at times. As if knowing that one stage of the battle had begun already had brought with it a sense of peace.

Hermione understood that feeling and even embraced it, because it was the only thing that kept her sane. The thought she would see Draco again soon, that was. When Harry finally approached her about getting ready to leave, she slammed the books closed one by one and handed them off to Ron, who shrunk them down and stuck them in another charmed bag.

"Are the other buildings taken care of?" she asked Harry pointedly, as she still hadn't been allowed off the property.

"They are," he replied. "You'll get to practice with the Fiendfyre too, you know," he added as she continued to pack angrily.

"Will I? I'm to be allowed, is that it?"

Ron looked back at her from his dutiful help and frowned. "You know what he means, Hermione."

She faced him, eyes blazing, for another second before she sat down hard. "I know," she responded, her shoulders drooping. "I'm just so worried-"

"Don't be," Harry replied. "I wouldn't have come told you to pack if we didn't already know they'd been partially successful."

"Charlie's back!" Ron exclaimed and he was dropping Hermione's packing and out the door before she could react. She glared at Harry.

"You could have just said that to begin with, you lout."

"Sorry," he acknowledged, before holding out a hand to her. "Come say hi before we get ready to go. Ginny wants us all to have one last normal meal together."

"I can do that, Harry," she replied, taking his hand. "Gladly."

Over the dinner, Hermione plied Charlie with questions until Ginny finally shushed her with a glare and a well-placed hex and Hermione shut up, startled.

"Malfoy is…unstoppable," Charlie said, searching for words. "He and Luna must have taken out a dozen of the guards _he _left there before Rose and I realized what was going on, that we were even under attack."

At that, Rose, the witch he'd been working with, piped up. "And Lovegood- she's a real wiz. Curses I've seen grown men have trouble pronouncing just gliding off her tongue like nobody's business, never flinching at all…they're quite a team. If you know who'd known who you were sending in for us he probably would've insisted on meeting them himself, because I don't think I've ever seen so many grown, jaded Death Eaters taken out so quickly."

"Although Lovegood took a few hits-"

"And so did Malfoy, but Merlin! They just got right back up and kept delivering!" Rose finished.

Ron and Hermione held one another's hands, tight-lipped and ashen. Neither wanted to hear another word, but they also wouldn't get up and leave.

"But they're alright?" Hermione finally asked, ashamed of how her voice was shaking. Draco had his mother's sacrifice working for him and Luna had Harry's- that had to mean something. And hadn't Charlie and Rose just told them over and over how brilliant they both were? She should have more faith in them. But, just as she had so many months ago in prison, she found she couldn't help the niggling doubts that filtered into her mind. Couldn't help being terrified for her friends.

Draco would probably tell her that was normal and that she needed to embrace it and look past it, to deal with it stoically so that it couldn't control her. Well, she wasn't sure she could do that, just yet. But she would try, for their sakes.

"They're fine," Charlie answered. "They were on their way out of the newly liberated city and headed towards the forest, the last we saw. Too bad Kreacher couldn't go back to them, but I'm sure the old thing needs a bit of a rest."

Hermione glanced to the corner, where Kreacher was, indeed, sitting on a cushion and napping. Poor thing. She felt a surge of pity and gratitude for him and barely managed to restrain herself from going to him and hugging him. He probably wouldn't appreciate it too terribly.

"Well, everyone eat some more," Ginny said, breaking the silence. "We've got to break up and get moving soon, so you'd better have your fill. We don't know when our next meal together will be, after all."

No one needed to be told twice.

* * *

Harry caught up to Hermione after the meal to check on the status of the spells.

"I don't want to lay those particular curses until everyone but ourselves is gone, Harry," she replied. Then she stopped and looked up at him. "I am going with you and Ron, right?"

"You're on our team, yes," he replied.

"Good," she breathed before going back to her work. "Well, I'm packed. Let me know when it's safe to work a few spells, alright?"

"Soon, I think. Ginny, Dean and I are staying here to help with the curses. Dean and Ginny's teams are-"

"Ginny's going separately?" Hermione asked. "Oh, Harry."

He shook his head. "I'm not worried." When she frowned at him he sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Alright, I'm worried. But Ginny's going to be in good hands, you know. She's going to be with her parents and you know how Molly is-"

"Lord, that'll be a treat," Hermione responded. "It'll be two Mollys on the same team! I don't envy that lot."

Harry laughed a little. "I imagine it will. Thanks, Hermione, I hadn't thought of that. At any rate," he continued, "Ginny will help lay the curses at the Weasley's safe house and Dean will do the same for the team he's meeting. Bill and Fleur are responsible for their team. Then we'll all make our way across the country until we reach the school."

"Flushing Death Eaters as we go," Hermione supplied. "Well, I'm not exactly looking forward to it, but it has to be done. And hopefully it'll direct _his_ attention away from what's happening inside the castle itself, once Draco and Luna make it through. That _is_ part of the plan, right? Give them an advantage?"

"Right. They have a two day head start on us, which means we'll be causing plenty of trouble for the bastard by the time they start wreaking a little havoc on the inside."

A signal sounded from outside and Harry and Hermione exchanged significant glances. "Ready?" he asked her.

"Ready," she replied, tying her small, charmed bag about her waist and donning her robe.

After the other teams from the farmhouse had left the property, with Harry's group promising to wait for them at the appropriate point, Hermione led Ginny and Dean through the motions of the defensive spells and finally walked them through the steps for the curses they were laying.

Ginny looked a little uncertain, but Hermione smiled at her. "I know it seems like a bit much, Ginny, but keep in mind that it's a trap for Death Eaters. Remember what they did to us."

Ginny shook her head. "You know, Hermione, I really never thought I would see the day when you advocated stooping to their level."

"You don't know what it was like, having Blaise for a master," Hermione retorted, whipping about. "Now put your wand up and stop asking stupid questions!"

Ginny put her wand up, face apologetic. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean it to sound that way- I fully support yours and Harry's plan."

"I know, Ginny," Hermione answered, her voice a little flatter. "I just- I just don't feel like joking at the moment. Now, let's get on with it." She glanced to Ginny and Dean one last time and then began the chanting. Harry stood back and watched with cold eyes. It was dark magic they were brewing here, but it was necessary. They weren't using it because they wanted to, but because they had to. There was no way they would be able to stop the Death Eaters without it and they didn't have the soldiers to spare to leave behind a contingency to deal with any that might show up. So, black magic was their only option. He knew Hermione wasn't entirely happy about laying the curses, but he also knew she was strong enough to do it and survive.

She could survive anything now, he was certain. He just hoped she wouldn't have to.

They followed her lead perfectly and after Kreacher had popped back from delivering Ginny and Dean to their respective teams, the two last Order members stood with him for a quiet minute to say good bye to the farm house. It had kept the Order safe for months, really, while Hermione had been imprisoned and a lot had gone on inside. Things that Hermione would likely never know about. She felt nostalgic for a brief moment and found Harry's hand, holding it tightly.

"We'll…we'll have a new stronghold someday, won't we, Harry?"

"You mean once all the safe houses have been destroyed and the school burnt to cinders? Yeah, Hermione, we'll rebuild. We'll have homes again."

"And this time, when we build a school, it won't be steeped in centuries of blood prejudices and unity-breaking traditions. We'll build a place that relies on brains and strength of character. That builds bridges between students, not burns them."

Harry was quiet for a very long moment as he gazed at the darkened farmhouse with her, imagining the walls of the new school- the new Hogwarts. It was a beautiful vision to have. He squeezed her hand, nodding.

"Yeah, Hermione. We will. We'll make it all the things it should have been from the start. We'll build it with love."

Hermione smiled at him and felt Kreacher reach up a hand to hers, holding it fast. She smiled down at him as well and he turned his big, somber eyes to hers. There was hope there, she saw and she squeezed his hand before turning back to the building before them; seeing the same vision Harry was.

"That's right, Harry. With love."

* * *

**AN: *sniffsniff* Aw! How sweet! They'll rebuild it and make it better. (I have a feeling that is also a reference to something, but it keeps slipping away.)**


	17. In Which Allowances Are Made

**I own no part of the Harry Potter- wait, what? I don't? Oh. OH. Well, crap.**

**AN: I must- I **_**must**_**- preface this chapter with a shout-out to the hilarious and amazing Ginger, who is currently serving as the inspiration for many, many steamy interactions (Oh! Did I just go there? **_**Why, yes I did.**_**); and perhaps a steamy chapter or two, we'll see, if I ever get around to writing some more of this thing. She so kindly gave me my first ever artwork inspired by a fan fiction I wrote. Ginger, I love you, you saucy minx- there, I've declared myself publicly. Are you the only witch for me? **_**The world may never know.**_

**Also, ten points to whomever spots the King and I reference.**

* * *

Draco peered at Luna over his shoulder as they crept through the underbrush of the forest. It was night again and they'd been fortunate enough to avoid detection at Eric and Greta's, but he knew the forest was crawling with Death Eaters. He stopped in his tracks when he didn't see the familiar blond head.

"Lovegood?" he called softly and heard a rustling a few yards away. With his shoulders tense, he swept his wand around him, lighting the area with a soft glow as he searched for her. When she stepped from some nearby bushes unscathed he sighed. "Lovegood, what are you doing?"

"Talking to the banshees," she replied. "It's really a shame about their reputation in our time; they're harmless as long as you're not already dying."

Draco shivered involuntarily. "Talking to banshees?"

"Yes. They'd like to help us out with the Death Eaters in the forest, if we'd like their help."

Draco snorted and waved a hand. "By all means, Lovegood."

She nodded and turned to something invisible at her side that slowly took form as she spoke to it. Draco could barely see it, it was so flimsy and ephemeral, but he could tell what it was, sure enough. He held back another shiver and waited for them to finish talking. With a sudden wail, the thing swept into the air and then he and Luna were surrounded by banshees as they swept past them and deeper into the forest; flushing out the hidden Death Eaters and causing the evil men to fire upon one another. Draco and Luna ducked behind some trees themselves and began helping the Death Eaters by picking them off from under cover. Draco tried not to think about who the anonymous men were; they could very well be people he knew and had once cared about, like with Lestrange in the city earlier. But this was war, and they had all made their choices. Sympathy now would only get him killed. Like he had been hard for his side, once, he had to be hard for the Order, now. For Hermione. With a roar he took down another Death Eater that was aiming for Luna and the man's body crumpled to the forest floor. Luna sent him a smile he didn't return and they both went back to firing.

When the forest quieted down a bit more, Luna paused to speak with one of the things again and Draco hung back, watching for more minions. When none appeared, he gave Luna a nod.

"The coast is clear now. At least that's a few more taken care of."

"Draco," Luna said, "the banshees want to know if they can help some more. We could send some more of the Death Eaters from the castle out through the tunnel here, you know. The banshees would be waiting for them, along with any werewolves in the area."

He got a gleam in his eye as he looked at her and a slow smile spread across his face. "Why, Lovegood, I didn't know you were my long lost sister."

She stared at him blankly. "What?"

He laughed and clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Never mind. I just suspect you should have been in Slytherin all along. Come on, then. Tell them we think it's a wonderful idea and that they should be expecting some more Eaters, oh…by about tomorrow night?"

She nodded and turned back to the thing and in another few minutes they were off again, headed for the other tunnel. They made it to the entrance without any more trouble, but Draco insisted on going in first, just to double check.

He came back out unscathed and ushered Luna in. And then the journey was nearly like the one he'd taken with Hermione just a few weeks before. Lantern in hand, cloaks pulled high about their necks, they moved steadily through the tunnel towards the school. Draco turned to look at Luna a few times and she returned his gaze calmly.

"It'll be at least a solid day of walking," he reminded her and she smiled pleasantly.

"I enjoy walking."

"I admit, Lovegood, I'm still not sure I'm alright with you going in with me."

"Don't worry about me, Draco. They won't catch me. We have Polyjuice potion and Harry's cloak. Besides, it's not like I'm terrible with a wand, either."

Draco laughed. "You're hardly that, Lovegood, that's true."

"And even if I am caught, we have a plan for that, too. You should stay focused on your task for right now."

"Okay, okay. I will. Thanks for the encouragement."

"You're welcome," she replied serenely and Draco shook his head a little before facing forward again. She was right, he knew. Besides, there was nothing he could do about her going in with him now.

And at the very least, it wasn't Hermione beside him, although his heart ached a little at the thought of her. She was still in danger and traveling with Potter and Weasley, going after Death Eaters and laying curses grown witches wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. He smiled a little to himself. He supposed that if he said anything to Luna about her, the witch would only shake her head and say something nice and reassuring all over again.

Actually, now that he thought about it…

"Do you think Hermione is alright?" he asked her before he could stop himself.

She turned her gaze on him once again, the smile still hovering about her lips. "Of course," she responded with certainty. "Why do you keep asking?"

His heart eased a little. "Just thinking, Lovegood. Don't worry about it."

"I seldom do," she replied simply.

Draco nodded. Of course not. The girl was completely mental- but it worked out in his favor, he thought. With another exchange of nods and smiles, they resumed their walk in silence and were quiet for the rest of the day.

* * *

Hermione kept her wand trained on the man before her as he sneered and lunged for her again. She remembered his face- how could she forget it- but it didn't matter anymore. None of it mattered as she threw hexes and curses at him until he was slavering over the ground, trying to get away from her. It was only when she was standing over him, wand pressed to his already bleeding jugular, that someone finally noticed what she was doing and stopped her. She looked up into Harry's face as the life left the man and saw astonishment.

"Hermione-" he choked out. "What did you do to him?"

She looked back at the figure and immediately let go of him, scrambling back from her handiwork. His face was a bloody mess and he was definitely dead- though it wasn't clear whether it was from the skull fracture or from bleeding out.

"Did you- did you know him?" Harry asked quietly.

Hermione shook her head and suddenly turned away from the mess. No, she hadn't known him. But seeing him coming at her, with that dark hair and outstretched hands- it had reminded her of one person. And all she'd seen in that moment was Blaise. She shuddered and Harry drew her up from her spot on the ground before glancing about the field. The remains of the Death Eater camp they'd come across were smoldering and there had been no prisoners. It was a bitter pull to swallow, knowing this was what they'd come to. Us or them, Harry thought. We are all killers, now.

Hermione shuddered again before drawing away from him and wiping at her dry cheeks. She left a smear of blood along one and Harry wiped at it absentmindedly before firing a signal in the air and calling the rest of their team to him. They came silently and swiftly, no one speaking. No one wanting to speak. Ron took one look at the mess of a body next to them and took Hermione in his arms. She went willingly, but stood beside him, her back straight just the same. She wouldn't shy away from what she'd done.

It was good, at least, that she knew she could do it at all. That she could take their lives without hesitation. Sure, she was being a little more vengeful than she needed to, but who would blame her? No one who knew her, that's who. So she really needn't worry about it. Now she could focus on doing her job and helping Harry and praying for Draco, every spare second she had.

She turned back to Harry and focused on what he was saying.

"This was a success," he told the company quietly. "And I imagine our other teams will be working hard as well. We have the element of surprise with this first attack, but news will get out whether we want it to or not. So don't let down your guard! We can't afford to stop being vigilant." He looked about them and when no one spoke, he nodded. "Alright. Good. Now, let's set up camp for the evening."

"Here?" asked someone who had clearly not gotten the memo. The troop had been traveling the better part of a day and it was already nightfall.

"Yes, here," Ron responded. "They'll be sure to send a scouting party or a group to check in with the one we've just demolished. That way we can take out even more and maybe get some sleep at the same time. Use a brain, people!" he shouted and there was some snickering.

"Does it matter whose?" someone else called.

"I'd like Hermione's!" came a shout and then everyone broke into laughter. Harry waited until they'd quieted down a bit before speaking again.

"Enjoy the laughs where they come, people. Alright, let's get to it."

Ron was right and not three hours after they'd finished cleaning up the mess left by their successful skirmish, some mercenaries showed up. Hermione wasn't a part of that fight; she'd been bundled off into a tent for tea and good rest soon after Harry's talk; but she heard the fighting going on several yards away and couldn't help shivering in her shoes.

The wizard Harry and Ron had left with her eyed her sadly and floated the tea kettle over to her cup again. "Can I get you anything else?" he asked and she shook her head.

"No, thanks. You've been a big help already. I-" I just want Draco, she wanted to say, but caught the words back before they could escape. "That's all. Thanks," she added again. The wizard- just a boy, really, but then they were all still children, in some way- nodded and moved to another portion of the tent. He kept the flap open, however.

Hermione didn't care. She suddenly just want the whole damned thing to be over already. She wanted them- all the evil bastards- dead and gone so she could focus on regaining her sanity. It would never happen in her current state, she was certain of that much.

The fighting outside continued, but she remained in the tent, happy for once to do what Harry had asked.

* * *

Draco pushed open the entrance to Hogwarts carefully and looked back at Luna. She'd taken the Polyjuice and looked exactly like Lestrange, a fact that kept giving Draco the shivers. Lestrange with Luna's calm expression on his face- it was just bizarre, really. He supposed, though, that he should be grateful it wasn't Bellatrix. That would have been even stranger.

"Stand back while I seal it," he said and Luna-Lestrange nodded placidly, but put a hand on his arm.

"The banshees, remember," she told him and he lowered his wand.

"Of course," he said. "Thanks for reminding me."

Luna-Lestrange nodded and waved a hand around her head. Draco raised his eyebrows and glanced around before turning back to her. He settled on not asking and focused back on the mission. It was probably the Nargles anyway.

"You have the map of the school as they're using it, before we go any further?"

"That's right."

"Okay. Follow me. We'll take out the guards at the secret exit in the dungeons. That will make it easier to get any remaining prisoners out. If our calculations are right, Potter's team should be arriving in the Forbidden Forest soon and they'll be able to send someone to take out the patrol by that tunnel's exit on the other side of the lake."

"Isn't that actually under the water?" she finally asked as they walked.

"It is," Draco confirmed. "Hopefully they brought plenty of Gillyweed."

"Oh, you know," Luna-Lestrange replied vaguely, "I'm sure Harry always keeps some around now. Purely nostalgic reasons, of course."

"Of course," Draco said, repressing the urge to roll his eyes. If he knew Luna better, he'd say she was telling a joke. As it was, he was just going to attribute anything she said to being mental.

Brilliant, but mental.

* * *

Hermione felt dead on her feet and she gladly took the Pepper-Up potion from Ron, downing it in one gulp. She'd been up half the night before; first with the additional fighting and then with the nightmares and she felt like shit.

"Whoa, easy, Hermione," Ron said and wrested the small bottle back from her hands. "You're not harboring some kind of addiction, are you?" he joked and Hermione just stared at him blankly. "Erm, right," he said. "I'm just going to check on the rest of the team, then."

Harry slogged through the mud of their lakeside hideout towards her and she lifted a hand wearily.

"Well, that patrol is taken care of. Things will be happening quickly, from now on," he said, gazing back in the direction of the castle. They couldn't see it for all the protective spells Voldemort had applied, but they knew it was still there, at least. That was some comfort.

"What's next?" Hermione asked apprehensively.

"Well, Malfoy and Luna should be getting the prisoners out. I'm going down there with Daphne- she's a good swimmer- and we'll escort them out and back here."

"Harry, let me go with you," Hermione begged.

"Hermione, it's too dangerous- if they trigger an alarm the tunnel will be swarming with Death Eaters-"

"Exactly why you need more people down there!" she exclaimed. "Let me go with you, or so help me, I'll follow you without your permission."

"Hermione, we can't jeopardize this mission."

"And I'm a liability, is that it?"

"You had a bad night," he replied quietly. She shivered and crossed her arms. The potion was beginning to take effect, but although she felt more awake, her body was still tired. She couldn't deny that much.

"It's Draco in there now, Harry. Tell me you wouldn't insist on doing the same for Ginny." She watched him with wide, pleading eyes. "Harry, I _need_ to do this. Don't deny me."

Harry regarded her silently for a long moment before sighing and rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm going to regret this," he murmured.

"You won't," Hermione said, voice firm though she was quaking inside. "I swear it."

"Yeah, and if you eat those words later it might cost you your life," Harry replied, his voice harsh. "Think of what you're asking before you make any final decisions, please."

"But if I decide to go you won't stop me?"

Harry's shoulders dropped. "No, I won't," he said after some length. "You're absolutely right. There's nothing I wouldn't risk, if it were Ginny. Oh, hell." He put his arms about her and hugged her tightly. "Don't make me regret it."

"I won't," she insisted, though her voice was a little weaker. "I won't."

* * *

Inside the castle, Luna and Draco's surprise assault of the so-called slave quarters of the dungeons was just beginning. Any Death Eaters who recognized either of them were immediately obliviated and sent packing to another portion of the castle. Draco was all for killing them outright, but if they were caught by more people than they could handle, then Draco had to be able to explain his way out of the situation. And he somehow doubted he could do that with a bunch of corpses at his feet. Fortunately they didn't encounter too many people, so Draco didn't count it as too much of a loss. It looked like Potter's plan of distracting the Dark Lord was working. They successfully pulled the rest of the prisoners from their cells without protest- all ten of them.

Draco blanched a bit at the thought. There had been more than ten left when he'd taken Hermione; and though he knew they had all been at death's door anyway, it didn't make him feel better about the losses. And then it didn't matter anyway because the Death Eaters guarding the entrance to the tunnel under the lake were aware of them and attacking them and he had to focus on killing the bastards and not accidentally hitting any of the prisoners. Unforgivables flew over his and Luna's head and he looked back to see that the Polyjuice had worn off, which was what had alerted the guards to their real purpose. Still, the bastard he took out did look a little surprised to see it was a fellow Death Eater shooting the killing curse at him. Perhaps that meant his position was salvageable. Perhaps he'd be able to successfully get the wand, after all.

"Lovegood!" he called as he shot down the final guard. "Got them?"

"The prisoners or the Death Eaters?" she asked calmly.

"Both," he snarled as he leaned over and rifled through the dead guards' things.

"Yes," she replied. "Although I think we should move quickly. There's no telling whom that alerted to our presence."

"I'm quite aware of that, Lovegood. Follow me. The tunnel is right here-" and he suited his actions to his words, pressing a lever and opening the door to the long and dank passageway. "It opens in a grotto on the other side of the lake. Take them and go."

Luna nodded and began to usher the prisoners past him one by one while Draco cast cursory healing charms just so they'd be able to walk the length of the tunnel without dropping dead.

"I'll give you as much of a head start as I can," he murmured when Luna finally turned to look at him. "But I may need to let a few Death Eaters in after you. Just be prepared."

"Try to-"

"Send them through the other tunnel first, yes," he assured her. "I will, but if all else fails- I'm going to have to be one of them for now," he finished, his eyes haunted. Luna grasped his hand tightly.

"You'll do the right thing, Draco," she said softly. Then she let go and walked in after the last confused, broken prisoner. Draco watched her disappear into the dark and with a heavy sigh shut the door. Then he turned away, lifted his wand, and stupefied himself.

* * *

**AN: What do we think? More fighting and drama is next! Oh, the drama. Just don't hate me too much when it happens. I have a BRILLIANT idea. Not as brilliant as Draco being forced to kill his own father, perhaps, but just the same. You'll be glad I did it, trust me. No one likes a boring romance, eh?**


	18. In Which Hermione Decides

**I don't own Harry Potter. Pooh.**

**AN: Man, it's really hard to write drama appropriately when listening to inspirational music. I don't much want to kill off Death Eaters when "God is watching us…from a distance." LOL.**

**Since you all missed the bonus trivia last time, here's another, easier one. Spot the Star Wars reference! Ten points!**

* * *

Hermione entered the water slowly, wincing against the cold despite the warming charm that had been applied to her swimwear. She had her small travel pouch about her waist which had been charmed to stay dry and she'd be able to change once she reached the grotto- because she'd put her robes in the pouch. She hadn't told anyone about that. Just like she hadn't told them she needed her robes since she wasn't returning to the camp.

Harry might really try to stop her from going if she said anything about that part of the plan, so it was easier to just keep it to herself. Although Ron gave her a strange look when she gave him an extra long hug before departing with Harry, Daphne and Wesley, the wizard who'd watched her previously. She and Wesley were to stand at the entrance of the tunnel and help the escaping prisoners to Harry and Daphne, who would escort them to the surface.

"Hermione, come on!" Harry called softly from further out in the water, drawing Hermione from her thoughts.

Cautiously, she felt around herself at the water before she spotted the soft glow of three other wands ahead of her. With a determined grimace, she pulled out her ball of Gillyweed and shoved it in her mouth, swallowing hard, then lifted her own wand, lit it, and pushed forward into the water. She felt her feet leave the sandy floor of the shallows and then she was suddenly waving flippers through the water behind her and shooting forward to meet the others. If the night hadn't been so grim and their purpose so great, she would have laughed aloud.

So, this was what Harry had experienced his fourth year during the trials. Well, it was bloody _brilliant_. The water swept by her and under her gills cool as any breeze she'd ever felt and the murkiness of it and the weeds about her didn't bother her a bit. She felt as though she'd never breathed before now, it was such a sensation, using her gills. She did a few experimental turns and flips under the water until she caught Harry looking over at her, teeth bared in a sad grin. He was remembering those days, too, it seemed.

And just like that, the moment of joy was over and she was returned to the task at hand. Of course, Hogwarts wouldn't be around at all in a few short days, if it lasted that long. The places they'd walked together and feats they'd experienced- the growing pains, the emotional turmoil, the love and laughter and successes and sorrows…their memories would survive, but the place they'd learned to live with wouldn't. It was a sobering thought.

They reached the underwater grotto in next to no time and Hermione immediately popped out from the water and took a strange, gasping breath before clambering out onto the floor of the tunnel. The tunnel didn't have a proper door at their end, it just sort of opened up and sloped down into a pool of water. She immediately pulled out two potions from her pouch that would return her and Wesley to their regular states and made sure to hand him his other Gillyweed dose. He'd need it for the return trip. Then she sipped at the bottle and with another gasp, felt her gills disappear and watched her feet return to their proper shape and size. She glanced over at Wesley to see that he was also looking himself again, then checked the water. She could see Harry's and Daphne's heads bobbing just above the water.

"They'll be here soon, if our calculations are correct," Wesley offered and Hermione nodded before standing up and muttering a quick drying spell. She locked her eyes on the tunnel after one last glance at Harry. She was sorry she wouldn't be able to say goodbye, not knowing if she would see him again after this, but she knew if she said anything he was likely to bodily drag her back to camp.

"I'm ready," she responded, spreading her stance and holding her wand at the ready. And then, in another five minutes, small sounds reached their ears, followed shortly by the appearance of people who looked as bad as Hermione knew she must have. She had to struggle not to look away, and to move towards them and gently take their arms, leading them to Harry. Spelling them warm and dry as they went so they could handle the trip through the darkened, cold lake. With a final cast of a bubble charm about their heads, she and Wesley handed them off to Harry and Daphne one by one, watching only two go at a time. Hermione itched to make it go faster, but they daren't risk the health of the prisoners if they wanted any of them to survive. What they were attempting was dangerous enough with rushing things. When Luna appeared behind the tenth prisoner, Hermione nearly cried.

She wasn't sure if it was with relief or distress. Luna's being there meant that Draco was officially on his own for an undetermined length of time, but she was also glad to see that her friend was okay. She pulled the other witch close in a brief embrace and felt Luna shove something at her. She looked down at her hands, caught thoroughly off guard.

"Luna, it's good to- what's this?" she asked. She recognized it before the other girl spoke.

"Harry's cloak. You'll need it, won't you?"

"Luna-" Hermione looked up at her and searched her face quickly for any sign that Luna knew her plan, or would give her away. She found none. "I-"

"Oh, look," Luna said, turning away. "Harry's back for another escapee. Best put that away, now. Wouldn't want it to get damp." Then she patted Hermione on the arm and walked over to take Hermione's position with the prisoners.

Momentarily confused, Hermione gaped before she quickly shoved the cloak into her enchanted pouch and then turned around as well. Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, her mother always said. And if Luna was insane enough to let Hermione get away with her plan- to anticipate Hermione would even have a plan- then she was glad to take advantage of the girl's understanding. The blond, wishy-washy witch had always been a bit barmy that way, hadn't she? Even if she was a Ravenclaw. Feeling the chill of the lake suddenly begin to creep about her ankles again, Hermione muttered another warming spell before taking someone else by the arm and handing her off to Daphne.

Back to business. Back to waiting just a moment more before she could slip away, unseen.

She didn't have to wait much longer, as it turned out, though slipping away unseen was definitely not happening. Just as Harry was dragging the last prisoner under the water with him, murmuring reassuring words to the witch and convincing her that to stay was murder, the first spell from a Death Eater's wand shot out from the dark and sparked against the wall of the grotto. Luna and Daphne had already taken the others and were gone from the spot, leaving Hermione and Wesley the only two on land, at the mouth of the tunnel. Hermione immediately turned around and fired back into the dark, satisfied when she heard the thud of a body hitting the ground. She turned to look at Wesley, to tell him to go when another spell shot out and caught him square in the chest.

He crumpled before her eyes and she turned back to the soldiers who were spilling out of the tunnel and began firing madly. She could hear Harry's voice echoing off the walls and she shouted back to him as she fired, taking down man after man. She was barely even bothering with the Order's preferred disarming tactics and Harry shuddered beneath the surface of the water as he heard his best friend- his unbreakable, jaded and brilliant friend- uttering the curse he himself couldn't even use.

"Hermione!" he chanced one last time and saw her glance back at him. Her eyes were wild, her hair a mess. Her expression contained something he never thought he'd see on her face. It was murder. "Hermione, you have to come now!" he tried again.

She smiled at him. It was heart-breaking.

"Go on! I'm not coming back tonight!" she yelled back before diving for cover and continuing the fight. When a spell hit the water right next to his head, Harry knew he couldn't stay any longer. There was a witch in his arms that was depending on him to get her to safety, the same way Hermione had depended on Draco weeks back. With a prayer that Narcissa's sacrifice was enough, he sank beneath the water and out of sight before shooting back into the inky depths of the lake. He would just have to pay Hermione back for this tenfold when he saw her again, that was all.

At least, he desperately hoped that was all.

* * *

Draco knew the plan had gone terribly awry when he came to in the corridor only to find the door to the tunnel open again and a Death Eater with a wand in his face. Well, it looked like he had seriously underestimated the buggers. The way the plan was supposed to go was they would find him, wake him, take his foremost memory of the tunnel that led into the time-slip and the Howling Forest, and walk straight into their first trap. Now, it seemed he would have to do things the hard way, in addition to being worried sick about Luna and the prisoners escaping in time.

"Could you get that thing out of my face?" he asked the Death Eater currently staring him down. Grigsby, wasn't it? Hell, he didn't really care at this point, but it couldn't hurt to remember a few names.

"Nice, Malfoy," the man spat back. "Helping prisoners escape? That will go over _great_. I'm sure the Dark Lord will _love_ this-"

"I didn't order you to move the damned wand, Grigsby, I asked nicely. But if you insist-" and the other man was on his back and writhing in less than a second. Draco got up, brushed himself off and finally cut off the spell with a roll of his eyes. "Enjoy a good laugh?" he asked the other man, keeping a foot at his throat.

"Merlin's balls, Malfoy- Rictumsempra? Really? That the best you-"

"Crucio," Draco responded evenly. He shut out the man's howls of pain as best he could. He was the hardened Death Eater, after all. Not that he'd ever really been that much- but he had to play it now, if he wanted to get that bleeding wand. He looked down at Grigsby as he writhed, controlling his emotions, his responses. He had better slip back into the role as quickly as possible and if this young idiot had to pay the price so he could do his damned job for the Order, so be it. He lifted the wand, ready to renew the curse when he heard a stifled gasp behind him.

He didn't even need to turn around to know who it was that had come out of the tunnel. Not Luna. Not the Death Eaters Grigsby had been watching for. No, he'd know the sound of her voice, the rhythm of her breath, her footfall, anywhere.

Hermione. He swore and stupefied the contorted wizard before spinning about to face her.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Hermione- Granger?" he corrected himself at the last minute. It was imperative he forget what she'd meant to him. Not literally- but he had to compartmentalize to save their asses. He had to put on the mask.

She returned his gaze with a steely one of her own, her momentary shock at finding him casually torturing a Death Eater gone. Replaced with something hard and determined. His face fell and he cast a haunted glance about them before stepping towards her and then she was in his arms, face buried against his shoulder, his nose in her hair.

"Are they all-"

"Dead," she replied, knowing he referred to the Death Eaters who'd gone in the tunnel after Luna and the others.

"Who-"

"I did," she said fiercely, pulling back and looking him straight in the eyes. "_I did. _I had to be here. Don't try and tell me I'm going back in there, sending me back to Harry and the others-"

"No, no," he reassured her, though his arm tightened about her shoulders and he began to swing his head and his wand about again, ever watchful. "It's too bloody late for that. You'll have to stay- but Merlin, I don't know what I'll do with you-"

"Luna gave me Harry's cloak. Should I use it?"

Draco had barely opened his mouth before he heard the sounds of approaching footsteps and he hustled her back into the shadows. "Oh, gods," he groaned softly. "I can't kill anyone- I- torturing, stupefying- that's one thing, but I have to play it like I'm-"

"One of them again. I know," Hermione told him. "I understand. What do I need to do?"

"He'll know you're here," Draco told her. "They'll _know_. Don't you understand that? Even with that cloak you'll only avoid detection so far. It's why we had to get Lovegood out the same night she came in."

"But you can use it for your plan, right? To get at the-" she went on, her hope to be useful undeterred. Always practical.

"Shh!" Draco hissed and suddenly he'd grabbed her and they were fleeing in the opposite direction of the approaching Death Eaters. Hermione held tight to his hand, suddenly frightened despite her resolve.

Draco's heart was pounding and he could feel the mask trying to slip, he was so desperate for Hermione to be anywhere but there; but he couldn't lose it while she was depending on him. Yet again. Merlin, if they ever made it out of the castle alive he would kill her himself. For putting him in this position, for making him love her, for everything.

When he was confident they had a moment's respite, he paused his flight and tugged her further into the shadows. They were headed back to the main floor of the castle and he knew it was only a matter of minutes until every inch of the castle was crawling with Death Eaters…and him being caught with a muggleborn witch he'd already freed had _not_ been part of the original plan. He stared down at her, hardening his expression, making her see the gravity of what it was she'd done.

Never mind that the things he told her were breaking his heart. Her face flickered with fear, revulsion and courage and he wanted nothing more than to take her by the shoulders and either shake her until her big, know it all head fell off, or shag her senseless. As neither was really an option, he settled for putting the fear of God in her. Not that he enjoyed doing it.

"Granger, you're going to have to trust me. More than you do already. This is different. You shouldn't be here, do you understand? I _hate _this!" He moaned, running a hand over his face and looked away. "They're going to- they're going to assume my running the escapes was all part of an elaborate plot for getting in with the Order, because that's what I'll tell them. You know that much from your end, with all the curses you laid."

Hermione nodded slowly, not looking away from him. Not daring to. He looked so angry- at her, at himself. At the situation.

She wouldn't apologize. This was where she belonged. "I can handle whatever it is, Draco," she said softly and he closed his eyes, as if he couldn't even handle her saying that much.

"I know you think you can…look, the only way to convince them you're- part of the plan- is to play the Stockholm Syndrome card. But I don't know what they'll insist on doing with you. You could even end up back-" but he stopped himself before he completed that thought. Taking a deep breath he continued, "It's a complete gamble, Hermione, do you understand that? Never mind what you know- that will be bad, too. I'm sure they'll try to use Legilimency on you. Oh, gods," he stopped and leant against the wall, suddenly feeling very, very old. There was no way out of this one. She would never be able to guard against their tactics. The entire plan would leak out through her, they would be ruined. Potter and company would have to resort to Plan E, which amounted to Just Start Burning Everything In Sight. And that wouldn't give them time to get out the children- debatable though their innocence may be- and they wouldn't know for certain about the wand…oh, gods. They were all going to die. He allowed himself another second against the wall while he fought down the wave of panic. He hadn't felt this terrible since he'd first realized how Blaise treated his victims, months and months ago. As if everything would come crashing down-

There was a tug on his arm and he looked over.

Hermione was staring up at him, her face grim. "I'm sorry about this, Draco. I'm not sorry I came- I couldn't live, couldn't think straight, knowing you were in here, suffering alone. But I am sorry for putting you in this position. I knew what you'd have to do, when I came back in, really. I'd just hoped there would be something else-"

"What are you on about?" he asked hoarsely, the panic in his throat practically nothing compared to the nausea that threatened him upon watching her face.

"Draco, you'll have to Obliviate me."

"I-" I won't do it, he wanted to say. Anything but that.

And suddenly the Death Eaters were doing their job and their moment of respite was gone with the sounds of running footsteps and a call to arms.

"Draco!" Hermione hissed, gripping his arm tightly. Her expression softened as she saw the indecision on his face, the fear. Fear that this would make him lose her. Fear that she might not recover; that she might not remember how much he regretted that she was right; and that he would have to do it. Fear that she would never recover the memory of how much she loved him. Of how much he loved her.

He raised his wand marginally, just pointing it at her head and knew the Death Eaters would be on them in another moment. It wasn't for forever, he promised himself. He could reverse it when it was safe, he could…but damn it all if he wasn't going to pieces just the same.

"Hermione," he whispered.

"I love you," she told him.

He felt tears wet his lashes and smiled coldly, preparing to slip the mask on one last time. "I know."

And her world went black.

* * *

**AN: HAHAHAHAHA. Did I promise you drama, or what? **


	19. In Which Draco Faces the Truth

**Don't own it, don't make money.**

**AN: I'm sorry for the lack of updates the past few days. My muse was on vacation (quite literally) and I hadn't yet realized I was so far gone that I couldn't write without her to, ah, inspire me. Rawr. (You know who you are!)**

* * *

Hermione went limp in his arms and he powered through the shock of the moment. He had to work quickly if he wanted them to survive. So, pulling the mask firmly in place with a whispered promise to her limp form, he immediately removed the pouch at her side, secreting it in his own bag. She was right; he'd want the cloak for his task and the less they found on her, the better. Then he ennervated her with another whisper. He had seconds until the Eaters swarming the castle were upon them and he had to explain- she rolled her head up to see who was holding her and her eyes widened.

"Malfoy?"

"It's Draco, Hermione. Draco. I know you still hate me right now, but you're going to have to trust me right now, if you want to live. I promise I'll explain things as soon as I'm able. I swear to you- on- on Harry Potter's life."

She shook her head uncertainly, though her eyes didn't leave his face and he couldn't tell whether she believed him or not. He hadn't left her with anything- it was too risky. All she had were her memories up until three weeks ago. All those months of torture, of Zabini, of being broken beyond belief…he could see the apathy, the defeat filling her eyes once again as she stared at him, confused.

He grit his teeth. It would have to do.

And then they were being surrounded and the hall they were in illuminated.

"Malfoy! So it's you!" Corresponding cries and jeers filled the air and he felt, rather than saw, them all lifting their wands, prepared to hex him on site. He held Hermione close, bracing for the impact, lifting his own wand, when he saw another figure approaching their circle.

Merlin. Merlin, Dumbledore and Grindelwald. Draco thought that if he hadn't just spent the last several months defying this man; and discovering that he wasn't a coward; and, in fact, had great stores of courage; he may have pissed himself.

He sort of thought he might anyway, but then he felt Hermione begin to tremble in his arms and he straightened up and smirked instead.

"Care to hex me now, boys?" he said to the gathering as the Dark Lord swept towards them. The other Eaters glared at him, but broke apart to make way for Voldemort like the good, fearful followers they were.

Draco bowed low before the monster as he slowed his approach and forced Hermione down beside him.

There was a moment of silent regard before the slithering voice sounded.

"You may rise, Draco."

The voice bit him deeply and he stilled his own trembling. Then, in a move he would never _not_ feel guilty for, he purposefully held Hermione down while he rose and straightened up. He kept one hand on her head, forcing it down as he looked into the eyes of the wizard everyone feared.

"My Lord," he said, inclining his head again. He felt Hermione's small hands snake about one of his ankles, as she hugged herself to his leg while she cowered. It was clear that whether she trusted him or not, she figured he was the only one who might protect her. He could feel the shivers wracking her body and his heart beat a little faster, but his face remained impassive. He had eyes only for his master, though his mental walls were shut tight. He'd learned from the best spy, after all. The Dark Lord had never penetrated Severus' mind if the other wizard hadn't allowed it and Draco was the same. With two such teachers as Snape and his own father, what else could be expected? It was one reason why Voldemort would never trust him the way he did his other servants…though saying that the monster trusted anyone was really stretching things.

"You have returned…" Voldemort's voice drifted off as he looked Draco and his ward over. His lips curled up a little as he took in Hermione's shivering form before he continued and Draco braced himself for what was coming next. This was the part that no one knew, that neither the Death Eaters or the Order had been told of. It was Draco's secret weapon for doing the job the Order had given him…but he knew that it would come as a shock to Hermione.

"I have," he replied, his own voice gaining strength.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed a bit. "Have you been successful in your task?"

"I have, my Lord."

The other Death Eaters drew even further away as Voldemort came closer. The single twitch in Draco's eyelid was the only sign that he was affected by the man's presence. No matter how often it had happened, he never got used to the man's strange walking motion- as if he were really gliding across the floor.

It was just…creepy. Not that it was the creepiest thing about him, but still. Hermione's hands locked on his leg and he fought the urge to stroke her hair again.

"You will tell me of it, then. In the privacy of my quarters." Voldemort paused and glanced at Hermione again. "Who have you brought back with you?"

"Granger," Draco said shortly.

"Ah…and she would come willingly, despite her previous…torment?"

"She fancies herself in love with me, my Lord."

The sneer returned to Voldemort's face and he looked Draco in the eye once more. "I see. What presence of mind you have. Well, let us see what she knows as well, since I cannot be expected to take your word alone."

He motioned and another Eater stepped forward as if to pull Hermione up (whose trembling had returned tenfold), but Draco turned and glared at him, staying the action.

"My Lord," he said as he stared the other man down, "she has her uses, certainly, but her mind is gone."

"She is responsible for the deaths in the tunnel!" another man said and Draco smirked.

"She always has been the brightest witch of her age," he said. "But do you think she would dared have used Unforgivables if her mind was not already broken beyond repair?"

Voldemort raised his hand. "Enough! Bring her here, Draco."

Draco nodded and then, with a tenderness the other Eaters jeered at, he knelt and drew her up with him. She didn't fight him and he wasn't sure whether it was a sign she trusted him, or that she truly had regained the broken state he'd originally found her in. Both were disturbing thoughts and he didn't have time for them before he put his arm about her and led her forward; cooing at her as if she had the mind of a child, as if she were a pet to him.

Her shoulders were stiff, but she moved forward and lifted her eyes to Voldemort's face anyway.

Hermione rather figured that if she were going to die, it might as well be with the ounce of courage she had left.

She'd been confused, of course, when she'd awoken in Draco's arms, surrounded by Death Eaters. And him whispering to her about hating and trusting him and that he would explain things later…but from where she stood, he was working with the Dark Lord and clearly had information on Harry…who was apparently alive, after all. Her mind grew fuzzy and she gave her head a small shake, completely unnerved. Something had happened to her, aside from the months of abuse. Something better…or worse. What was it?

Why was Draco holding her so carefully when he was just going to sacrifice her to his master?

Nothing made sense, except for the small buzzing in her ears and the wand lights that were too bright and the evil, evil eyes in the face of the man standing before her. The man who was no longer a man.

Who looked like he might eat her alive.

She felt Draco supporting her as she looked up into the face of death and suddenly found she could not move or blink. Voldemort's eyes bore into hers and he uttered a single word.

"Legilimens."

And then he was inside her head and making her relive the months of torture at Blaise's hands; and hearing the cries of her comrades down the hall on either side of her; and the only kindnesses ever visited upon her at the hands of Draco Malfoy. Ah, yes, that was why she listened to him. Because he was nice to her, although she hated him for it. He never said an unkind word, and never touched her anywhere she didn't want him to. And then he healed her scars from Blaise, when he'd-

Voldemort ripped out of her mind with a vicious howl of rage or laughter, she couldn't tell which, and left her crumpled in Draco's arms, heaving all over the stone floor of the castle. The other Death Eaters made noises of disgust and derision as Draco murmured a quiet scourging spell. Voldemort did not stop him and instead continued to watch the pair speculatively, his face contorted in a frown. He did not like things he did not understand…and this thing that lay between Draco and Hermione was beyond his understanding, as all love was.

"I would punish her for that, but you seem fond of her, Draco," Voldemort said, his tongue rolling over the syllables slowly.

Draco jerked his head back to look his master in the face again. He smirked.

"And you think I will not punish her myself, in the privacy of my room?"

"You wish her to be taken to your room?"

"If my Lord allows it," Draco replied evenly, groveling ever so slightly. "Will she be of use to you, after all?"

Voldemort was silent for only a few seconds, but they stretched long as he stared at Draco.

"…she may prove useful at some point. For now, she may wait for you in your quarters. You and I have much to discuss. I expect you at my office within the hour." He leaned forward a little and Draco resisted the urge to pull away from his sharp gaze. "It would be wise of you, son of Lucius, not to dally."

And then the Dark Lord swept away again with his smug glide; and the rest of the Death Eaters, correctly interpreting his group wide dismissal, turned and left as well; with only a few glares and snarls among the lot of them directed at Draco.

Hermione's hands crept about his arms and held on tightly and he looked down at her. She was a mess- still trembling, with a bit of sick about her mouth. He looked back up at the receding backs of the other Eaters and then surreptitiously lifted his arms and gently brushed his sleeve against her mouth, wiping it.

She drew back from the touch, startled, but still too confused to fight him.

"I'm taking you to my room," he murmured to her as he began to walk her along the halls and up staircases. "We'll talk there."

* * *

When they finally reached his room and he'd pushed her inside before turning and locking the door behind him, she rounded on him with an energy he hadn't realized she still possessed.

"What is going on? You have to tell me, Malfoy. Please- what is going on? Is it true? Have you been spying for that- that _monster_? I never dreamed…you wouldn't kill him, you couldn't do it-"

"Kill who, Granger?" Draco asked, momentarily confused as well. His eyes fell on the small clock on his table. He didn't have long to explain before he needed to go see Voldemort. He looked up at Hermione again, who had her back against the far wall of his semi-circular tower room.

"Dumbledore," she choked out and he closed his eyes, reminding himself that she'd been obliviated- by his hand- and was drawing on the most recent memories she had. "You didn't kill him, you wouldn't, so I thought maybe you weren't so terrible- but now…are you spying for him? I have to know- oh, Malfoy, please don't betray Harry! Don't do it!" she whispered fiercely even as her hands covered her face and she began to tremble anew, sinking to the floor.

"Hush-" he began, going to her immediately. He remembered what that felt like- to be terrified for his life and the lives of the only people he loved, who loved him. He remembered that much. It was what had made him change in the first place- that single shred of humanity left in him. With a gentle motion and soothing words, he sank to the floor beside her and pulled her into his arms. "I'm not going to betray anyone, Hermione. This would be much easier for you to accept if I could restore your memories…but it's too dangerous. The Dark Lord expects a faithful servant from me right now and that's what I'll give him. Please, don't be afraid. Potter will be fine. Potter will be fine."

Hermione's desperate sobs subsided somewhat and he stood again, drawing her over to the bed. "Sleep while I'm gone. I'm going to ward the door. No one will be able to get at you. You'll be safe for now."

She clung to his arm as he tucked her up under the covers and refused to let go. "How can I know- how can I trust you?"

"You've trusted me once already, Hermione," he answered her softly. "I don't know what made you do it the first time, but you'll have to find that part of you again. Sleep, now," he murmured, bringing a potion to her lips. Her wide, scared eyes watched his face until the potion took effect and her lids dropped down, heavy and weary. Then he extracted his arm and left, being sure to spell the door safe before he took off down the stairs.

* * *

**AN: This chapter was mostly expo, but more drama is on the way. There's actually only a few chapters left, I think. :) And sequels? Pshaw. Maybe someday, when I've finished Forgotten Things (which, come on, we all know will NEVER be finished). That and I already have a couple others I need to seriously dig into again. Open Windows over on Granger Enchanted and No Smoke Without Oven. Hmm...so much to do. I'm actually in the market for a muse for my other stories, if anyone is interested. (Rawr again, with considerably more laughter this time.)**


	20. In Which Draco Makes a Mistake

**I DON'T OWN HP, OK? :(**

**AN: Have any of you seen the new fashion shots of Tom Felton? RAWR. I feel so pervy looking at them. I know he's legal and all, but still. I mean, he's gots the girlfriend and all...and he's just a baby, really. (SIGH) On my way to Cougar-dom, is what I am.**

* * *

Within minutes he had arrived at the base of the staircase leading up to the headmaster's office. Formerly the headmaster's office, rather.

The statue was pushed aside and the stairs already revealed, prepared for his ascent. Draco fingered his wand nervously one last time before he put his hands in his pockets and stepped onto the first stone. Without another sound, the staircase began revolving and after a few minutes it stopped at the door. Draco was just about to knock when it swung open without aid and Voldemort's voice sounded from inside.

"Enter."

Draco entered.

The office was dimly lit; only a fire in the grate casting light over the circular chamber. Voldemort had removed all the portraits- whether he'd simply had them destroyed or not, Draco had never been sure. And he'd certainly had time to consider the question.

Because of course he'd been in the office before.

Voldemort had come to him about three months after Draco had helped his first prisoner escape and asked him to complete a task. His own resolve had been strengthened by then; but he hadn't denied himself how easy it would have been to simply accept the Dark Lord's newfound favor and whore himself out. "I want a spy, now that Severus is dead," Voldemort had told him. "I understand it may take you some time to develop a rapport with Potter and his troupe, but do not tarry too long." Voldemort had never been exceptionally patient. The only reason he'd taken so long to make his move against Harry was because of the state of himself and his army.

So Draco had pretty much had permission to do whatever he needed to in order to gain Potter's confidence. (And so the decision to come back to the castle had been easy- he knew he would _have_ to come back.) Voldemort hadn't been aware of all the rescues, however, or the extent to which Draco had already gone by the time he'd been approached. And of course the rest of the Death Eaters hadn't known what was going on, either. So there had always been an element of danger. Draco had known from the start that this task, like the other the Dark Lord had given him two years before (practically three years, now), had been meant to fail from the start. That he expected Draco would be caught by his fellow Eaters and killed- perhaps accidentally- and that would be the end of his pretty much useless Death Eater, and punishment for the Malfoys, all rolled in one.

Now, glancing about the office nonchalantly, he realized how easy it would be still to deliver Harry and the Order to the madman. He already had Hermione with him; he could slip back into his ways and spell her however he wanted until she fell in love with him again…and no one would be the wiser. Certainly not Potter, because he would be dead by then. The cold grip of fear and hatred had been difficult to shake completely and it snuck up his torso again now; creeping into his heart while he wore the mask of his fellow murderers perfectly.

He fingered his wand again- not his wand, really. Potter had that one. This one was taken from some poor half-blood who'd been killed. Whose wand was it? Ah, yes- Tonks. He'd been given it because they believed it would act better for him since she was his blood relative. And it had, hadn't it, every time he'd learned to show a little more compassion and backbone. Cousin. She'd been left for dead with her husband, hadn't she? With their baby son orphaned, just like Harry had been…for the sake of love and freedom. His fingers tightened about the handle and he smiled grimly. He would not lose his humanity to Voldemort tonight, after all. That was a relief.

The Dark Lord turned and swept from his personal chamber down to the main floor and raised his brows at the determined expression upon Draco's face.

"What information have you brought me?"

"Do you wish me to tell you, use your spell on me, or have me draw the memories out into a pensieve for you?"

"None of that will be necessary, Draco. It would have been extremely foolish of you to return to me without the correct information. If anything…untoward happens, you will pay for it. Although I find it extremely foolish of you to care for a mud blood like that Granger, especially one as worthless as she is now, her presence proves useful enough. Do you honestly think your pitiful wards against your chamber door will keep your fellow Death Eaters out?"

Draco stiffened a bit, his heart racing once again, but he held steady and continued to share Voldemort's dark gaze.

"Of course not. I had to tell her something to set her mind at ease."

"I am not pleased that you killed Zabini, either. He was one of my most trusted-" vicious was the real word, but Draco would not interrupt him, "soldiers. Still, I understand your reasons."

"Your magnanimity excels my expectations, my Lord," Draco murmured, smirking. Whether Voldemort noticed the sarcastic tone or not escaped him. At any rate, the dark wizard turned around to consider the fire.

"Please, tell me their plans."

"I have written it down, as well, my Lord. Here is the parchment," he said, stepping forward and placing a scroll on the desk. Then he stepped back in place and began to recite the false plans. The list of the now unoccupied safe houses, their marching plans.

"Ah, yes. I have been receiving reports of disturbances- I would leave the castle myself to check them, but the young ones-" he made a sweeping gesture. "Well, you understand, Draco."

Draco nodded. He certainly did understand. He understood that Voldemort was afraid if he left the castle for any period of time, something would happen to the Horcrux- or Horcruxes- still secreted there. Well, now he had reached the truly tricky portion of his false revelations to the Dark Lord.

"So you will send someone to check their whereabouts immediately, my Lord? May I go with them? Perhaps if Potter and his group saw me they would be lulled into a false sense of security."

To his surprise, Voldemort actually appeared to consider this idea. "Your creativity astounds me, young Malfoy. Perhaps you will be of more use to me than your late father was, after all. However- no, you will stay here. Work with your pet. I am sure that, as one of our more skilled healers, you will have a better chance of drawing something useful from her mind than Blaise ever did." He sneered. "Now, what other intelligence have you brought me?"

"I tremble to speak of such things before you, my Lord…"

"Come, come. Do not be afraid. You have served me well so far, Draco. You must tell me what you know, or else I may be forced to draw it from you."

Draco put his best acting chops into the tremor of his voice, the sweat that donned his brow. "Hor- Horcruxes, my master," he half-whispered. "They believe you harbor one or two yet, here in the castle."

He bowed his head low and felt Voldemort drift closer to him, felt the chills of his presence penetrate his spirit and senses. It was worse, in some ways, than dementors. At least the dementors could be repelled by some normal means. There was no repelling Voldemort. There was no escaping the Dark Lord. How Potter and his friends had done it for so many years never ceased to amaze Draco.

Perhaps it was an ingrained strength of character.

Voldemort proceeded to breathe down his neck for a full minute and a half before answering him. (Strength of character be damned, he wanted to piss himself.)

"And what do they think they know of these Horcruxes?"

"They believe that they know of at least one that is here. They think you may have turned the Sorting Hat into one; that you only burned it with regular flame at the final battle as a way to cover your tracks and mislead them in their search." Draco lifted his head and looked at Voldemort warily, but carefully.

The other wizard drew away, one short expelling of air through the slits in his face the only indication that he found the theory amusing. Laughable, even. Draco knew that if he'd truly touched a nerve, Voldemort would have laughed outright in an attempt to divert attention from the theory. In order to turn it into an impossible joke. Also, he'd likely be dead for having guessed at Voldemort's last Horcrux. Instead, he was alive and Voldemort was playing it very cool. As in, let them think that. Let them come in and try to take me down by destroying a _hat_. Stupid muggles and half-breeds.

Draco knew they were halfway to winning.

"Well, Draco," Voldemort said finally, after some length. "Let them come. I will send your fellow soldiers out to take care of these safe houses and camps. We will put an end to Potter and his precious Order. You have done well, Draco."

Draco sighed and bowed very low. "Thank you, my Lord. Someday I pray I will have earned back your trust and the good name of my noble family."

Voldemort's lips curled lightly. "Very well, Draco. Go back to your mudblood. Work on her mind, or whatever it is you do with such pets."

"May I not remain here with you, my Lord, or go out on your orders?"

"No- I will be otherwise occupied. Perhaps it is time I met Potter. I believe I will make an exception tonight. The little ones are in their beds and need no educating this night. Instead, I think I will go…hunting."

"As you wish, my master," Draco murmured, bowing low once again. Then, with one last sweep of his eyes at the dark wizard (and about the small chamber, accompanied by a small, deliberate shudder); he left the room and descended the stairs. He left behind only his dignity, false information, and a very small, very subtle spy device.

It was a miniature video camera; the kind that pervy landlords used to spy on their female tenants; and it had been spelled to operate within the castle walls. The other end was in his bag, tied about his waist. He'd been able to attach it to the underside of Voldemort's desk when he'd leaned forward and placed the scroll down.

Hopefully the bastard wouldn't notice, because he really needed eyes and ears inside the office. Voldemort may have said he was leaving to take on Potter- rather, the place he thought Potter was at- but that could have just been another lie. And there was no way Draco was going back up there if that man was still in the office. With another quick look around once he'd reached the base of the stairs, Draco ducked down a side hallway and into the shadows. He still had a view of the statue, so he'd be able to see Voldemort leave- if he did- and he was out of sight.

It wasn't that he didn't want to go check on Hermione- he did, very badly; it was more that if she hadn't been obliviated and knew he had a perfectly good opportunity to take the wand and didn't, because of _her_…well, he didn't fancy having to explain that one once her memories were restored and she was trapped in Hogwarts forever. No, he'd take his chances now and trust that he could get to her before anything major happened. As long as he was still alive after his bravery had worn off, that was.

Draco dug in his bag and pulled out three objects: the cloak, the monitor, and a small coin. They were, aside from the basilisk tooth also secreted in the bag, the three most important items he needed right now. He unfurled the cloak over himself and then settled back into the shadows to wait for Voldemort's move, holding the monitor up in his hands. They'd treated the small camera with one of the Weasley twins' old charms in order to make it work in the castle; but it also had the advantage of being so muggle like that Voldemort would never expect them to use such technology. If it was found, its presence would likely be dismissed. Draco had thought it a thin ploy at first, until Harry had pointed out that they'd already outsmarted Voldemort more than once, and then at much younger ages.

He tapped the screen a bit before murmuring the spell to turn the thing on and soon a clear, black and whit image filled the small space. This way, Draco would know exactly when to make his move towards the office stairs so that they didn't close up without him. The camera allowed him a view of the door of the office, but within the muffling spell he'd cast, he could also thinly hear voices. Voldemort was speaking to someone- had there been someone else in the room with them? Ah, no. He heard the whoosh of flames and realized the wizard had been speaking through the floo. So, he meant what he'd said. He was going to face Potter. Well, the curses that had been laid at the various spots would at least help stall the return of the dark wizard and whichever of his minions survived.

Not that many would. The only reason Voldemort would likely live through them was because of the Horcruxes. And Draco wouldn't be able to begin the assault on the school until all the children were out safely- all the children who could be saved, at any rate. He knew that many of Potter's associates would be horrified to hear him speak that way, but it was the truth. He knew as well- perhaps better- than anyone how vicious irretrievable children could be, when raised the wrong way. Still, they needed to at least try. He fingered the coin again and finally tucked the monitor back in his bag as he saw Voldemort open the door of the office and leave. He tapped the coin with his wand as he heard the stairwell descending.

It was one of the old DA's coins, still connected to the one Poppy Pomfrey held- bless the witch. She was one of the last loyal staff members who had been allowed to remain in the castle, to better serve the children. Another mistake by Voldemort, but Draco wasn't complaining. She would receive his message about times and tunnels and immediately spring into action, gathering the children and ushering them out as swiftly as possible. Most of them would listen to her- she knew how to cast a mean Imperious Curse, for as noble as she was.

Once that was finished, he tucked the coin back in his bag as well and reached in a careful hand to pull out the basilisk fang. He would have one chance to go up there and destroy the wand- as long as Voldemort hadn't moved it in the last five minutes- and he had to be ready. With a whispered prayer he carefully moved out of the shadows, checking around himself to make sure he was fully covered by the cloak; then he stepped as close to the statue as he dared get. He could hear the rustle of robes and footsteps coming from another direction, a sign that Voldemort's chosen entourage had arrived. He leaned as close as he dared, trying to hear their conversation before he made one final dash to the statue.

Voldemort drifted down the last few steps but hovered in the entrance of the stairwell, glancing about at his gathered party; making it impossible for Draco to get a clear entry to the stairs.

"Have the other parties been sent?" he asked his men. The Death Eaters nodded obediently. "Good. We will take out four hidden bases of the Order tonight. Potter is, of course, mine. I will not tolerate defeat this time, is that clear?" When the men nodded he smiled sinisterly. "Of course, if you plan on becoming a nuisance I could murder you here instead."

There were several hasty shakes of the head, followed by a few "my lords." Draco held his breath, hoping they would leave soon. Desperately hoping, in fact. Instead, they exchanged even more words and Draco did his best not to tune them out. He was tired, stressed, nervous as hell- scared out of his mind, in fact- and trying to be brave all the same time. Honestly? It wasn't going well. He stilled the trembling of his muscles and waited for them to finish talking.

"You trust Malfoy's information, Lord?" one man finally questioned and Draco smirked. Voldemort repaid him for his question with a quietly muttered hex.

"You are questioning my judgment?"

"No! No, my Lord!" the other men shouted.

"And did you do as I asked?"

Another man stepped forward. "There is a guard on his room."

"Excellent-"

"And he did not return there after he came from your office."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed and Draco shivered. He knew they were talking about him, about his room. Where Hermione was presumably fast asleep and unprotected, but for Narcissa's and Harry's gifts and the wards upon the door. He wished he'd had time to ask Potter how far such a sacrifice of love stretched in relation to personal safety.

With an evil smile, the dark wizard lifted his wand to his throat and projected his voice about the entirety of the school.

"_Draco, you have served me well thus far! Be careful in wherever your steps have taken you this evening; if you betray me the mudblood will suffer for it! Remember that!"_

For one awful second, Draco's feet were frozen to the floor, even as he watched Voldemort lower his wand and start off down the hall with the other Eaters; even as he saw his chances for attaining the stairwell dwindling rapidly. The Dark Lord's words echoed through the halls and his own mind, terrifying him out of acting…until something equally dreadful happened. He clenched his hands so hard that he felt the basilisk fang bite into his palm.

The small, but sharp, pain brought him out of his sudden dolor and he stared down at his hand in horror, seeing a thin line of red welling up from his palm.

Oh, _fuck_. But it was enough, at least, that he made a dash for the stairs at just the last minute and was able to slip in past the sliding statue. He fell against the wall as the statue shut and felt the stairs pause, then begin their spiral upwards once more.

He looked down at the line on his hand again as he rose ever nearer his mark. He wasn't sure if the blood rushing in his ears was the adrenaline or the poison. It was just a scratch, after all. Just a scratch…

…Merlin_._

* * *

**AN: HAHAHAHAHA. :)**


	21. In Which Worst Fears Are Met

**Don't own it, don't make money.**

**AN: This chapter is a little longer than normal cause I'm trying to finish things up soon. Only a couple chaps to go, I figure. Also, if you come across any inconsistencies, please, don't bother to tell me. I'm tired and almost at the end. :)**

* * *

Poppy had begun hustling the students out nearly as soon as she'd received the message; sooner, really, if one counted that the moment she'd heard of Draco's return, she'd begun Imperiousing and dosing as many as possible in preparation of the order to move. The students were so few, fortunately, that Voldemort had deemed it only necessary to open two dormitories: Slytherin, because the house gave him the least trouble with leading it under such circumstances. And Gryffindor, because he took a sick pride in knowing he'd bested the house which had produced so many of his enemies. (There had certainly been no sorting hat at the start of the year, at any rate.) He'd had to destroy the Fat Lady's Painting in order to get inside, but that hadn't mattered much to him. He'd destroyed every other painting in the castle, after all.

She glanced down at the coin for the fifth time since she'd begun clearing out the dorms. She was already three-quarters of the way through Slytherin; the children were gathered in the common room; clutching their wands and having the decency to look terrified. She had fifteen minutes left of optimal traveling time before Draco figured the injured and dead Death Eaters would begin arriving back at the castle. (Dead, because Draco was right to assume that Voldemort would never leave behind a perfectly good corpse that could be reanimated.)

She raised her voice as she followed the last of the boys down the stairs. "Hurry, children! Now, out of the dormitory altogether- move along!"

And for all that they were heavily dosed with potions and compulsion spells, they moved, bless their little hearts. She fingered the coin again, her face pale and drawn. Fourteen minutes.

* * *

Draco managed to make it up the stairs alright, with only the rushing in his ears and a slight fever to show for his stupidity. So, that was why Voldemort had been so willing to leave. He'd set guards on Hermione. The question was, what sort of guards, and could they really get through his own protections? And where in hell was that blasted wand? With an angry expletive he summoned some light to the chamber. Ah, there it was. He started towards the case, only to stumble over his own feet. With a small gasp he caught himself against the wall and took a few seconds to regain his balance.

Damn it. His head was more than on fire now; he could feel himself growing sluggish with the poison…but he still had a job to do. Destroy the wand, send his patronus to the Order, help Poppy, get back to Hermione, set the castle on fire. Hopefully escape with his life. Well, that last one was starting to look a bit dim.

Swearing again he pushed off the wall and staggered the last few steps to the case in which the wand was being kept. He fired off a few aggressive spells at it in light of the dark magic he knew was protecting it. Nothing. Looked like he'd have to resort to blowing the damn thing up in order to get at the Horcrux and that meant he would surely end up alerting Voldemort or his guards to the impending betrayal. Shit. With another loud curse, Draco leveled his wand at the case.

"Reducto!" he cried and the case was immediately blown to pieces. He siphoned the dust away quickly to see that the wand was unrealistically unharmed. So, Potter had been right. It was a Horcrux. No ordinary wand would have survived that explosion. He knelt and drew out the basilisk fang once again, noticing as he reached for the wand that his vision was starting to blur as well. He stopped and rubbed at his eyes, irritated, before he realized it was just another effect of the poison. But there was no time to hesitate any longer. Their minutes of safety and opportunity were swiftly dwindling and he could still see the vague shape of the wand in front of him. He reached for it again, feeling the dark magic of it bite at his person before he mercilessly and with finality brought the fang down upon it. Draco figured that if he was truly dying, he was going to bring down as many pieces of Voldemort with him as possible.

* * *

Hermione jolted awake to the sound of rapid pounding on wood. With a frightened start, she pulled the covers of the unfamiliar bed up about her neck and looked around frantically. Where was she? Oh- _oh_. Malfoy's room in Hogwarts. He'd sent her to sleep and gone off to meet with that…that awful, evil man. But then, who was pounding on the door? It wouldn't be Draco; he'd have no need to demand entrance to the room. Unless he was trapped outside and needed help. Hermione tugged the covers closer and felt something bump her leg. Glancing under the covers quickly, she saw that Draco had tucked a wand in by her side. A _wand_. Merlin, he was serious about helping her and Harry; it was the only explanation. There was no other reason a Death Eater would ever give one of the prisoners a wand. And hadn't he said something to V- _Voldemort_ about bringing her back? Which meant he'd already helped her escape once; and then he'd said something to her about her memories…

Oh. So that's what had happened. She'd been obliviated. There was no other way to explain that strange conversation- or what she could remember of it, anyway, considering she'd been out of her wits with fright at the time. Unless, of course, her mind really was gone. Well. There was one way to find out if she was right. She cast another nervous glance at the door and hoped it would hold for the time being, then she lifted the wand and pointed it at her head. She bit her lower lip. What was the memory restoration spell, again? (She really didn't fancy having to crucio herself in order to figure things out.)

* * *

Outside the castle walls, the rest of the teams of Order members had arrived. They were busy setting up and warding the rest of their camps; and sending patroni rushing back and forth between them, bearing messages and orders. Harry was pacing back and forth on the shore of the lake, waiting for the signal from Poppy that the students were ready to be removed. They'd received a message once already that she'd been alerted to begin moving the students to the escape routes, but they had yet to know whether she'd been successful. It was excruciating, waiting for confirmation, because it meant that they had no idea whether or not Draco was equally successful.

Ron looked up from where he was giving his broom one last good polish. He would be part of the team they were sending up to do some aerial fighting, since he had no desire to actually be on the ground, setting fire to things. "It's just, I still have nightmares about that time, mate," he'd finally stumbled over in an aside to Harry when they were planning. Now, he gave Harry a hard glance.

"Pacing won't do you any good, Harry," he said.

"I'm frantic, Ron, I can't help it- you didn't see her face earlier. She doesn't plan on coming back, I know it- I know her-"

"Who said that?" Luna asked calmly. Harry turned around, startled.

"It was just, er-"

"She went in to be with Draco, you know," she said. "I don't think she'll be able to help him very much, but she would have been pacing half mad the way you are right now if she hadn't gone in."

"What?" Harry's brows drew together with confusion.

"Well you're clearly just waiting for Ginny to call," Luna replied. Then she turned to Ron. "All done? I believe they want us in formation. I wish I could help with the burning, but I'd never be able to control the fyre, I'm quite certain."

She turned to smile at Harry again just as a brilliant white horse came galloping at them from the shallows. Harry let out a strangled cry of relief.

"Finally!"

Ron shared a grin with Luna before he gave Harry a tight hug and a hard handshake. "Look, Harry," he said more seriously, "if Malfoy doesn't get her out of there or she doesn't do for herself, you know we will. We're a matched set, the three of us. Nothing's going to happen to her, not with two of your mum's specials on her."

Harry smiled back a little pathetically, though looking a tad more alert than he had before Ginny's safety was assured. "I know, Ron. Thanks. Just…watch out for yourselves. We'll see this thing through tonight."

"We will," Ron agreed. Then he and Luna left to join the other flyers. Harry sent his patronus around to the various camps one last time, telling them to wait on his command.

That was when the fox darted up and out of the water to land at his feet in a silvery blur. It shook its ethereal coat and looked up at Harry before pronouncing itself.

"Slytherin is gathered. Require assistance immediately. Unable to reach Gryffindor without leaving students unsafe."

Harry sprang into action, calling his patronus back, changing its message, sending it out again before calling for Kreacher. The house elf popped up next to him and Harry eyed him seriously.

"Still up to commanding your army?"

Kreacher rolled an eye at him derisively and snorted. "They work for the dark wizard. They are loyal to Harry Potter."

"Good then," Harry said. "Now let's get to the tunnel. Daphne!" he called and without another word the three of them disappeared from the shore; leaving behind a meager but well organized and extremely determined coterie of wizards and witches; who would escape with the students once they were all safe.

* * *

Poppy wanted to wring her hands as she helped the students step over the once more defeated bodies of Death Eaters and pass into the escape tunnel. She barely glanced at the coin as she shot down another guard who jumped out of the shadows. She didn't need to look at it anymore. Her brain was counting down the seconds as they passed.

Nine minutes.

* * *

Blinding pain ripped up Draco's arm as he slashed and tore at the wand; all the while waving visions away from his swiftly clouding eyes of Hermione dead, his mother dead; his father doing awful, awful things to their corpses while Voldemort sat by and laughed; making him watch the entire spectacle. If he'd been able to feel anything other than the burning in his hand and arm he was certain he would have been ill. As it was, the wand finally gave with a magnificent crack, sending the visions up in smoke, though his eyes didn't really clear.

He knelt on the floor, shoulders back and chest heaving for breath for one awful, dizzying second before he toppled over. He blinked rapidly, wishing he knew what was happening, what was going on. His arm flopped over and the fang tumbled from his grasp, leaving what felt like a sticky mess in its wake.

Oh, God. He was going to die. He wasn't going to be able to save Hermione at all. His breath caught in his throat and he tried to sit up again, digging in his bag with uncoordinated fingers for his own wand. He still had work to do. He couldn't die yet- he _couldn't._ He had to summon his patronus, send it to Potter or the next in charge, make sure they knew the wand was destroyed. That they could begin the burning.

He hoped Poppy had gotten the children out. He knew, dimly, that if she hadn't managed Potter would at least get Kreacher back in the school. The house elves would help free the rest of the children if she couldn't. But there was still Hermione…

His wand slipped right from his bloodied, limp grasp and he mumbled a swear.

"Merlin help me," he whispered hoarsely. His head was burning up, he felt like his entire body might go up in flames before the school did…

And then a shrill cry sounded in the night air outside the tower, accompanied by the swiftly approaching sound of flapping wings.

Draco's heart swelled with something other than fever.

Fawkes had returned to fulfill his former master's most important promise to his students. The phoenix ruffled his feathers proudly as he cooed and hopped over to Draco, crying profusely on the wound in his hand. Just in bloody time, from the looks of it, too. Ah, well, the distinguished arch of his neck seemed to say, the least I can do for them is help put to rest the evil that killed Albus.

Draco would always wonder if the phoenix had really spoken to him, or if he'd simply been hallucinating.

* * *

The Death Eaters never thought to bother guarding the kitchens; house elves were merely glorified slaves. Magical creatures without rights; practically less than sentient. It would be to their detriment. As soon as the children began to pour from the tunnel entrance, Harry sent Kreacher into the school and he had been right; the other house elves still trapped at Hogwarts were more than happy to rally around Kreacher once again. They descended upon Gryffindor tower without warning and were spiriting children away before the guards on duty outside even realized something untoward was happening.

Poppy didn't even bother to feel at the coin as she saw more children begin to appear on the shore beside her and the other members of the escape team. She had to direct a few choice memory charms at some of the more headstrong ones, but she finally felt some of the tension begin to slip from her shoulders. All the students would be out in another two minutes, tops.

And they still had five to go.

* * *

Hermione blinked rapidly as her memories of the last three weeks came flooding back. She fell back against the head board of the bed, wand clutched to her heart, breathing coming in short gasps as sensations and feelings overwhelmed her. She couldn't pass out now, not from a simple memory restoration; not when the pounding on the door was growing worse and Draco was still out there in the castle. Draco…yes, he had gone to see Voldemort. He had to take care of the wand and then they were going to destroy the school. The tidal wave of repressed memories finally receded and she sat back up shakily before slipping from the bed. She remembered everything; all their plans, the days of marching, the camps of dead they left behind them.

And she'd nearly ruined it by coming into the castle. Her mouth pulled itself into a thin line. Well, there was no use worrying over it now. She was inside and she had her memories back and it would be far easier to destroy the school from the inside than from out. It was for the best that there was someone with Draco, really. Especially since she didn't know how long he had been gone; if he'd been successful or needed help.

Knowing him, he needed help. She calculated that she couldn't have been asleep too long, and things were supposed to happen quickly once he had his meeting with the Dark Lord. That thought pulled her up short again. The Dark Lord…she sorted through her most recent memories, those of the last few hours, and realized that the wizard had thought Draco one of his spies. She felt a moment of doubt as she considered whether he was truly on the side of good this time, but quickly dismissed it. The look he'd given her before he'd obliviated her; the tenderness with which he held her as he submitted her to Voldemort; the way he'd comforted her seconds later in his own room…none of those things spoke to him putting on an act for the Order. He meant everything he'd said to her and Harry.

He would help them defeat the dark wizard or die trying and he was more than proud to do it. He felt it was his duty, in fact.

Hermione turned her attention back to the door as the pounding against it subsided into a scrabbling noise. She didn't know what was out there, but she was going to find out. Narrowing her eyes, she cast her patronus and sent it through the solid wood of the door to find Draco, then reached for the handle of the door.

* * *

It felt to Draco as though the seconds it took for the phoenix tears to travel through his blood, erasing the poison of the basilisk and curing the lingering dark magic of the Horcrux, crawled by like hours. It took far too long for him to regain feeling in his fingers and the sight to his eyes. With a few shamed whimpers he finally struggled up on his elbows and then to his knees. He cast a grateful, but bitter, glance at the bird as he finally gained his feet again and spread his other hand wide.

"Thank you," he whispered and Fawkes tilted his head. Then, with another shrill cry, he lifted himself and flapped his wings quite deliberately before he took off through the window once more. The darkened sky enveloped his figure quickly and Draco shook his head free of a few more cobwebs before he took in the remains of the wand and its cabinet. There was nothing left of it but splinters and charred stone and rug. So, it was done and he wouldn't be dying yet. Draco glanced over to where the discarded fang lay and his brows drew together as he looked back at the night sky. Fawkes had left behind a dusky red tail feather. A smile suddenly dawned over his features. Of course, the wand that had been destroyed had held one of the phoenix's feathers, hadn't it? Potter had mentioned that before. Wasn't that why Voldemort had needed another wand?

With a rueful smile, Draco leant over and picked up the feather, then tucked it into his bag. Perhaps Fawkes had meant it as a token gesture of sorts. Either way, he seemed to recognize the significance of the event and Draco wasn't going to question the gift. He turned and headed for the door. The time to ponder was over, if it had ever begun, and he still had a job to do. He had to know if the children were safe, if Hermione was safe. Potter was supposed to enter the school via one tunnel, along with Thomas and Ginny through other tunnels. Then they were going to set the place blazing.

He was about to summon his own patronus when another came rushing up the stairwell at him. He gaped. Hermione! What was it doing-

"Found wand. Reversed charm. Am leaving room due to disturbance outside of door. Where are you?"

Draco paled and took the stairs two at a time. He hadn't forgotten Voldemort's warning, not at all, and he shuddered to think what the devil had planted outside his door. With an angry cry he jumped down the remaining steps; tumbled a few meters and pushed off his hands to take to his feet again; shooting down the halls towards his room like the man himself was after him.

* * *

Ginny nodded at Thomas as they pushed their way into the school via their particular tunnel. It would lead them to the front hall, where they would proceed to take on the ground level of the castle. Harry and Daphne were to work on the dungeons and Draco was to take the higher levels, while the riders would take the towers or any other airborne Death Eaters. None of them except Harry were certain they would make it out of the castle before they lost control of the Fiendfyre (because for all their training, they figured it was safer to assume they would lose control of it at some point); but it was a sacrifice worth making, to take down the Dark Lord. And even then, Harry only knew he might have to leave the castle if Voldemort didn't come back to it.

They were certainly going into this battle with all eyes open and all senses alert, at any rate. It was a sobering thought and Ginny felt in her pocket for her own coin. Someone from every camp held one, in fact, to keep track of time. The patroni were being used to send messages, something the coins weren't built for. Dean noticed her motion and whispered at her from the corner of his mouth.

"How long?"

They'd just come to the edge of the front entrance and were standing, wands at the ready, for any sign of returning Eaters. A tremor ran through Dean's shoulders. Ginny was perfectly still, her face grim.

"Two minutes."

* * *

The mangled and broken bodies of Death Eaters began to appear on the flagstones of the front courtyard one by one (when it was clear there was just one Death Eater there, and not two or three that had been somehow…joined together); their arrival a full minute earlier than anticipated. They were all dead. Ginny could only imagine she heard Voldemort's screams of anger at the surprise curses they'd tripped when arriving at the former safe houses. Without another word, she and Dean did not wait to see the dark wizard himself arrive and instead split up to begin the bonfire of the ground floor. Their silence did not matter anymore; only the weakest and most useless Death Eaters had been left inside the castle and would be easily taken care of. Red hair streaming behind her, she thought of Harry and called forth the Fiendfyre. It answered her greedily.

* * *

Hermione could hear some other commotion going on elsewhere in the castle, but her ears wouldn't focus on it. There was buzzing noise swiftly filling them up and she couldn't think, couldn't breath. Her eyes were glued to the _thing_ standing before her. Whatever she'd expected to see upon opening the door, wand at the ready, it had not been this- this _monstrosity_.

It swung at her again and instead of ducking or running or slamming the door, she simply stood there, gaping, tears welling in her eyes, and flinched. And then the arm hit her and she let out a small cry and finally, _finally_ put her arms up in front of her to ward of its blows. She was going to be ill- no, she couldn't even think what being ill meant- she was going to die, was what she was going to do. She was a worthless animal, a mud blood, and she was going to be trapped in a tiny, dark cell for the rest of her life and become this monster's next meal, perhaps literally. Her mind was shutting down and it wasn't at all like it had been on the marches the last week; when she'd see an Eater that reminded her of him and she'd hack and slash him to pieces. No, this really was him and she was going to, she was going…she felt it push her over and she stumbled and fell to the floor, the strength gone out of her legs.

And then one of its hands slid up her thigh and with a great effort not to wretch, her mind snapped back into place and she beat the things hand back as viciously as she could. Her strength had still not returned to her limbs, though, and she found herself crawling across the floor, tossing hexes at it over her shoulder, then curses- though of course the curse she kept trying to use wouldn't work on it because it wasn't exactly alive to be killed in the first place, was it? Hermione felt a wild hysteria bubbling up in her chest and she scrambled away from it as it came after her again. This was torture! It was worse than torture, it was sadistic and cruel beyond belief and she knew she was sobbing for mercy like a little baby, but she didn't care. She pushed off the floor and stumbled to the open doorway, but its hands reached out and snagged her pants and she toppled forward to her knees again, wand knocked clean from her hand, leaving her defenseless. She reached a hand towards the door again and opened her mouth to scream, only to find that her terror had choked the voice from her.

She screamed anyway.

* * *

Draco could tell the burning had begun; he could smell the smoke drifting up from the lower floors- meaning Ginny, Thomas, Potter and Daphne were all about and doing their dirty work. That thought both eased his mind and made him run faster. He had to get to Hermione; he knew something terrible was happening to her, especially if she'd been fool enough to open that door-

His thoughts were interrupted as a Death Eater leapt from the shadows and tackled him to the floor. He shot the killing curse at the man without thinking as his partner leapt out after him. He didn't know the other man- he may have once, but his face was so gaunt and his eyes so wild that it didn't matter anymore. He'd accepted long ago that his fellow Death Eaters were beyond help. Still, he tried to reason with the man as they grappled.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"You've betrayed the Dark Lord! We know who you are, Malfoy! You're a traitor like your mother-"

Draco let out a yell and fired off several useless curses. The man was in too close and had his arm at an odd angle and he couldn't find purchase to throw him off. He realized too late that he should have put the Invisibility Cloak back on. The other man grinned madly as though reading Draco's thoughts and his hands dug harshly into the shirt.

"Wishing you hadn't betrayed him now, eh? Or perhaps that you had your savior's cloak? Too bad for you, Malfoy! Avada-"

With all his strength, Draco tore himself from the man's grasp and fired off his own curse before the stunned wizard could finish the incantation. He paused long enough to stare down at the soldier and realize he did know the man he'd just killed, after all.

He closed his own eyes briefly as a jolt of sorrow crossed his mind; and then knelt by the body, passing his hand over the man's face to do the same for him. "Goodbye, Theo," he murmured. An explosion rocked the stones beneath his feet and he straightened up again as two screams reached his ears. One he would know anywhere- it was the rage of the most fearsome dark wizard the world had ever seen.

The other was Hermione. He took off down the corridor again as the fires below him grew and Voldemort's voice echoed in the corridors of the school once again.

"_Draco Malfoy! You have ended your life this night with such betrayal! If you think that your attempts to disarm me have worked you are sadly mistaken! I am undefeatable! Send your savior to me now and know that when his life ends, so does yours! Harry Potter! I challenge you to show yourself! SHOW YOURSELF!"_

Draco shuddered and continued to his room as swiftly as he could go, shirt torn to the waist from his grapple with Nott. Despite Voldemort's words, Hermione's screams were all he heard. He'd known he was dead the moment he'd come back to the school, anyway. Let the dark wizard do his worst.

* * *

**AN: MUAHAHAHAHA. *ahem* Cookie? Preferably Ginger Snaps? *kisses!***


	22. In Which A Madman Fiddles

**Don't own anything!**

**AN: I think maybe there's only one chapter left. :) That's what I'll call it for now, since I'm not entirely sure. Ending a story is always difficult, I think. **

* * *

Draco could feel heat coming up from the ground floor in waves as the Fiendfyre from his comrades' wands tore its way through the halls of the school. He was yelling Hermione's name at the top of his lungs, not caring who heard. His feet pounded the floors with a force he didn't know he possessed. His shirt was flapping open uselessly and he could feel sweat from the increased temperature and his exertions beading his upper lip and brow. And neck. And rolling down his back.

Holy fuck, it was getting hot in the school. Still running, he finally ripped the rest of his shirt away as he skidded around the final corner that took him to his room. The forgotten fabric dropped from his hands as he stared, horrified, at the scene before him.

Blaise fucking Zabini's animated corpse had both hands about Hermione's legs and he was slowly dragging her back towards him, through the open doorway of Draco's room.

Oh, shit.

"Hermione!" he yelled again.

Draco fired off a killing curse first thing before he realized what Hermione already had, moments before- he was already dead, wasn't he? The terrible inferus continued to pull Hermione back and she turned to see Draco, eyes wide and terrified, mouth open in a silent scream. He didn't bother to wonder how he'd heard her cries for help if she couldn't even speak; instead leaping forward and grabbing hold of her arms to yank her away from Blaise. Or the thing that had once been Blaise. She came away from him with one of his hands, wrist attached, still clutching an ankle, but she was in Draco's arms at least.

"Incendio!" Draco roared and watched as the bloody zombie of his once friend and now enemy burst into flames. Its remaining limbs drew in on itself as it tried to work out what was happening, but the fire consumed it without it ever regaining its faculties. Or the spell controlling it. Whatever. Draco stepped on the hand still attached to Hermione's leg and kicked it away, sending it up in flames as well. Then he held her away from himself and looked her full in the face.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

"I- you don't have to shout," she hiccupped and rubbed at her face before clutching at Draco again. The terror was still present in her eyes, but he could see from the determined set of her jaw that she'd got over the worst of it.

"Wand?" he asked, then spotted it on the floor a few feet away. He summoned it to her immediately and pressed it into one of her hands. He hated to think of her helpless, with that monster's dead hands all over her. The thought made him ill and angry all over again. "Are you alright? Did he do-" he stopped and cursed himself for his weakness before plunging forward. "Are you hurt?"

"Just my pride," she said softly, but he noticed she didn't look up at him. Her eyes watched the floor, or the wall over his shoulder, or even his chest. He remembered he wasn't wearing a shirt and wondered if now was really the time to care about her delicacy.

He decided not as another blast shook the castle. "Hermione, can you still cast? You're not so shaken you won't be able to help?" Draco felt terrible asking it of her, but knew they had no other options. She was in the castle now, with him, and he had to hold up his end of the plan.

She shook her head and he waited for her to speak. That hardened look he'd seen the last week they'd had together came over her face and she finally looked up at him. "I'll do anything it takes," she said, a small waver in her voice. "Anyone who would do something like _that_-" she made a short gesture behind her to where the smoking heap of Blaise lay and caught herself for a moment. "Let's burn this bloody place down. It's not Hogwarts anymore."

"No," he said somberly, "it isn't."

A long shudder ripped down Hermione's small frame and Draco thought his heart might break. He had done this to her; forced her into this situation. He'd allowed her the fantasy of loving him and because of it, she'd followed him back into this hell hole. And now he couldn't even comfort her or allow her a few minutes of recovery from this latest ordeal. He felt lower than dirt and would have gathered her back into his arms straightaway if they hadn't had jobs to do. As it was, he simply reached down and took one of her hands in his, feeling her trembling despite the determination on her face.

Hermione looked up at him again and back down to their hands. "Shouldn't we split up?" she asked quietly. Another explosion sounded, closer this time and Draco realized that whoever was wielding the Fiendfyre already was doing a bang-up job of it. They would hardly need his help in another few minutes.

He shook his head. "I'm not leaving you alone again," he said sternly. "Potter and Weasley would have my head. Now come on, before we're the ones being roasted as well. Got your wand?"

She took a deep breath and nodded, holding it out before her. "Ready."

Draco smiled tightly with approval and then turned back to his room, summoning the fyre. It fairly exploded from the tip of his wand and immediately consumed the small chamber before snaking back out into the hall around them. Draco felt Hermione's hand tense in his and heard her summoning as well. He turned his head to look back at her and found her sending the demonic flames shooting down the hall behind them. The tower would be consumed in seconds. He tugged on her hand and she turned to look at him, hair wild, orange firelight reflected in her shining eyes. Good lord, she was frightening sometimes.

"Come on- this is only one wing!" he shouted over the roaring flames. Hermione swallowed thickly and dragged the Fiendfyre along behind her as Draco tugged her forward. Then they were running again, through the smoke and fire, towards the final battle. They left nothing but ruins in their wake.

* * *

The dungeons were blazing well by the time Harry heard Voldemort's challenge and Daphne rounded a corner, her brows drawn together.

"You can't meet him yet!" she yelled. "We're not finished here!"

"I have to go!" he responded, wiping his brow, wincing as the smoke stung his eyes. Daphne reached him and muttered a spell and he found himself able to see clearly again.

"What was that?"

"Protective spell against the smoke. Nothing will do much good against the heat from the Fiendfyre, but we at least need to be able to see. Can't believe we didn't think of it before."

Harry clapped a hand on Daphne's shoulder, thanking her, before he started for the stairs again. She shook her head and followed.

"Well if you won't listen to me, I'll at least come with you," she said. "I'd like a piece of the bastard as well."

Harry nodded and swept a final look down the halls of the dungeons. The furnace they'd created was already breaking down the foundations of the castle and any magic, dark or light, that had helped build it. He wished he could be sorry for its destruction. After all, he'd spent some of the best years of his life within these walls. The dungeons, however, had never been his favorite place and with their most recent usage… Another arched wall collapsed as he watched and he turned back to Daphne. "Come on, then. We're definitely finished here."

She nodded in agreement and together they ran up the stairs to take on the most evil wizard of their time. Their shared motive: vengeance.

* * *

Ginny and Dean circled the castle, their 'fyre trailing behind them, swirling about their heads, fiercely devouring anything in its path. They met up before the front hall once again and saw Voldemort and the last of his terrified but viciously loyal Death Eaters engaging in a duel with Harry and Daphne. Ginny felt her heart swell first with fear and then with pride. Harry, after all, could not be defeated by Voldemort. Not with the Horcruxes destroyed, and not with the secret knowledge that he was the true master of the Elder Wand. Voldemort was nothing more than a mad fool, now. He no longer deserved her fear, even with the terror she had felt under his hands. She looked to Dean and saw the same eagerness on his face that she knew must be on her own. The eagerness to join the fight.

"Ready?" she shouted to him and he nodded, releasing his Fiendfyre to its own devices, letting it rage where it wanted. She did the same to her own and they ran forward to join the fray. The fyre swooped and ducked above their heads, tearing into the high ceilings and walls and then blew forward, biting at the heels of the duelists, sending them all running from the hall into the outer courtyard.

* * *

Harry felt Daphne at his back as he sent another Death Eater into oblivion with a stupefy that left the man directly in the path of the Fiendfyre. He snorted at their once youthful inability to send people to their deaths, for fear of what Dumbledore had called a fracturing of the soul. Dumbledore was brilliant, but his views of things, as so many others', were antiquated. It didn't fracture the soul to kill in self defense, which was what all their so-called murders of Death Eaters were. The Death Eaters, with the exception of people like Draco and Daphne, were heartless and cold and killed for the fun of it, or the ideals they thought they stood for. They would not hesitate to send off a killing shot if they had one, so it only made sense for the Order not to give them the chance.

That wasn't to say they didn't feel their own grief or pain at having to take lives, but it was far from the earth shattering experience adults had once made it out to be. Or perhaps they were just jaded. He spared a glance at Daphne and saw her mouth working furiously as she cast curses of her own.

"Ginny and Dean are here now!" she yelled at him before she collapsed with another, sudden hit. She'd already taken a few with how careless the overwhelming need for justice for her sister's death had made her. He knelt by her, obscured by a collapsed wall, and felt for her pulse. He felt another motion at his back and turned to see Ginny.

"Gin!" he gasped and spared a moment to hug her to him.

"Is she-"

"Alive, but barely. One of you has to take her out of here. The Fiendfyre doesn't discriminate."

Another curse hit the stones above their head and showered off over them. Harry looked up to see an Eater headed straight for them and barely pushed Ginny to the ground as the man raised his wand again. Harry held his own up, casting a shield just as the man fired, only to hear a shout of surprise leave his lips as he crumpled in a heap. Harry and Ginny glanced up to the sky, where a figure on a broom waved, shouted something, then circled around, followed by another figure. Ron and Luna were rounding up the troops, as promised. They began picking off the remaining Death Eaters from the sky and Harry waved at them once before Voldemort's enraged voice filled the space around them again.

"_It is not over yet, Potter! Show yourself! You think I need my Death Eaters to finish you? You are wrong! I hold the Elder Wand! I am undefeatable! Show yourself to me! Face me and fulfill your precious prophecy!"_

Beside him, Ginny shivered, but when he turned to look at her he saw only anger in her eyes. "That bastard really thinks he'll win, doesn't he? It's already over! He's completely mad!"

Harry pressed his lips to her forehead and nodded. "He is. But he's right; I do have to face him. Take Daphne. Kreacher!" he called and the elf popped in beside them, looking terrified of the fire, but he held himself still long enough to take his orders.

"Dean is still here. I don't know where Draco and Hermione are, but after you've gotten Gin and Daphne out, take those three as well, as long as you can find them. Please?"

Kreacher nodded and took hold of the two women. Ginny look up at Harry and pressed one last kiss to his lips.

"I love you," she said solemnly.

"I love you," he replied softly and then he was looking at nothing. He stood up from behind the ruins and looked out across the burning courtyard; Daphne's charm still working to keep his vision and lungs clear; though the heat of the fire pricked his skin and sent him racing away from its terrible grasp.

He could see Voldemort on the other side, looking about himself wildly, laughing manically, face contorted with rage. He continued to run, not away from the dark wizard as he had so many times in the past, but towards him; buoyed by faith and hope and love. Three things the mad man had never had, and would never know.

* * *

Draco stopped running abruptly and Hermione fell against his back, sagging from all the exertion. Her emotional terror of earlier was catching up to her and all the effort it took to wield the Fiendfyre was swiftly wearing at her. She clutched at his back, realized it was bare and sprang away from him as quickly. He turned to look at her, puzzled, brows together in an angry V.

"What is it?" she asked and he made a sharp gesture.

"Floor's collapsed," he said and she looked around him to see that, indeed, an entire section of hall had crumbled in on itself and the Fiendfyre was deftly eating the stones into some blackened version of themselves.

"How are we going to-" she stopped short. Of course there was no need to bring up the obvious; he was clearly already thinking hard about what to do. They were essentially trapped on the upper floors now (what was left of them) and they had heard only moments before, Voldemort's final challenge to Harry. Hermione could feel the heat affecting her, sending the sweat rolling down her face and neck the same as it was with Draco, his back glistening even as the fire steamed the moisture from them as soon as their bodies produced it. She knew the fire was catching the edges of her hair as well, turning it to cinders, sending the smell of burning hair into the air about them. She clutched at Draco again anyway and he put his arm about her without a second thought.

"We've done our job, if the structure is collapsing this way already," he muttered. He looked down at her again. "We have to get out of here. I'm going to send up my patronus, let our airborne troops know. They may be able to fly close enough to collect us." He noticed the expression of weariness on Hermione's face and his arm about her tightened. "What's wrong?" he said softly.

"I'm just tired," she said, shaking her head. "I can't control the Fiendfyre much longer."

"I know what you mean," he replied. "Exactly. And you'll be out of here soon, I promise." Like Harry had only seconds before, he pressed a kiss to Hermione's forehead and then held her to him a moment more. The snarling demons of flame lunged about them, as if disgusted with their display and he allowed a smirk to grace his lips. Then he lifted his wand and released the fyre, sending it tearing out a nearby window and up about the roof of the school, licking its way along the outer walls as the castle was consumed from the inside.

"Expecto Patronum!" he yelled a minute later and Hermione wondered briefly how on earth he'd managed to call a happy memory to mind in the midst of all this destruction. Then she felt his arm about her shoulders again and clung to him, looking up into his proud, angled face. Of course. She was his happy memory. How strange she'd never realized.

She saw the patronus burst from the tip of his wand and soar through the fire and out into the night sky, a gasp of surprise crossing her lips. She had never seen Draco's patronus before; truth be told she hadn't been sure he could summon one- he'd led such a miserable life the last few years. But there it was, white and bright and shining as it soared away to call the broom riders to them.

A glowing dragon the size of a small house, wingspan as wide as any real one, neck long and slender, tail wide and ridged. Proud and defiant, like Draco.

The symbol of transformation.

She felt tears sting her cheeks and buried her face against him as another rumble shook the castle. Of course. _Of course. _He was a new man, wasn't he? He was hers and he was new and brave and free.

"Draco!" she choked and he watched the dragon soar out of sight before he looked back at her in shock.

Why was she crying? Was she hurt? Scared? He cursed at himself and lifted her face to his.

"Hermione, what is it? Let the 'fyre go now, you're in no condition- no, call it back, it's alright. This place is blazing for good now. Come on, that's it-" He cradled her against his chest, his arms surrounding her as she finished her Fiendfyre with a barely murmured command before she turned to him again.

"Draco-" she began, but was cut off as another rumble shook the floor beneath them and Draco looked over her head to see more stones fall into the chasm they'd narrowly avoided. He glanced about them quickly before moving them over, closer to the windows and stared hard out at the sky, searching for help. Hermione's eyes widened as she continued to watch the floor disintegrate about them. The scene unfurled before her eyes with dreadful clarity- the floor crumbling, stones falling; smoke billowing up from above; and the necks of loosened Fiendfyre stretching about to see and devour them along with the castle walls. She frantically summoned a wall of ice to shield them, but the school was so hot now that it merely fizzled away as quickly as she'd conjured it. Desperate, she cast a shield charm and looked back at Draco, who was waving an arm out the window, despite the flames licking at his bare skin.

"What is it?" she asked and he turned and planted a hard kiss on her lips for answer before she felt herself hoisted up into another pair of strong arms and then she was being drawn away from the burning castle, once her second home, watching Draco's figure grow smaller and smaller. She screamed and felt the arms about her tighten.

"Stop it, Hermione- he'll be fine. This beauty won't, though, if you make any more noise like that," Charlie said from behind her and she finally tore her eyes from the window she'd escaped from and looked around.

"A dragon!" she exclaimed. She, terrified of flight, was riding a dragon. Only with several steady breaths did she accept what was happening. Draco would be fine. She was riding his creature, after all, wasn't she? That had to be a good sign. Draco would be- the dragon beneath them swooped and dove and she screamed again.

* * *

Far below, Draco watched the creature grow smaller as the flames about him seemed to grow hotter. Hermione was screaming at various intervals and he closed his eyes briefly. He'd done the right thing, he knew that much. He just wasn't sure how the hell he was going to escape, too. He had just turned to fight off another wave of Fiendfyre when he heard another voice.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy! Get out here, you tosser!"

He swung about to see Ron hovering outside the window on a broom, arm outstretched. Draco didn't need to be told twice and he vaulted out of the window, catching Ron's arm and the broom bobbed wildly for a moment before Ron righted it. With some effort, he helped Draco clamber on the back and then they swooped up and away.

"Thanks, Weasley," he murmured as Ron insisted he tuck in against his back more tightly.

"Just call me Ron, already," the red head snapped. "And Merlin knows if one of us hadn't gone in for you Hermione would have murdered us in our beds."

Draco didn't have to stifle laughter at that because he didn't find anything very funny at the moment. Instead he nodded and clung to Ron as the other man dove back towards the castle, taking out a few rogues.

"So what am I going to do about her?" Draco asked finally and Ron grunted.

"Do? Marry her, I suppose."

Draco raised a brow. "I guess that sounds about right. If she really wants me," he added.

Ron didn't bother to point out that no one really _wanted_ or _expected_ a Malfoy; they just sort of seemed to happen to people. He dove again and fired another round.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you stop bloody planning your wedding to my best mate while you've got your arms about my waist?"

Draco smirked.

* * *

"Voldemort!" Harry yelled as he finally stepped from behind his latest shelter.

The dark wizard spun about and looked, saw, and narrowed his eyes. "Harry Potter," he hissed. "At last. Time to finish your work," he said, peeling his lips back from his teeth in an awful grin.

Harry leveled his wand. Draco's wand. "That's about it, yeah. The thing is, you think you're invincible. We've taken out all of your Horcruxes, Voldemort. We destroyed them all now. There's no coming back for you this time."

Voldemort laughed and stared down the man he still thought was a boy. "You think taking out some measly items and burning my home base will keep me from gaining-"

"Your precious minions- your soldiers, your camps of Death Eaters- they're all gone. The Order is taking out any survivors as we stand here. Those curses you saw were just the beginning," he said and was rewarded with a hint of fear flitting across the other wizard's face. It was brief, but it was there. A moment of hesitation. Harry pressed on. "And burning your base, the castle? We're not just burning it, Voldemort. That's Fiendfyre raging in that inferno behind you."

Voldemort's face changed again and this time, the gaunt terror and anger present did not slip away. He scowled at Harry as fearsomely as he could and drew his wand forward again, aiming for Harry's heart.

"You may have destroyed my ties to this earth, boy," he spat, "but I still hold the Elder Wand. I _am _invincible and you have made your final mistake."

"We'll see," Harry responded, shrugging, at which Voldemort snarled more. Harry's seeming nonchalance was driving him wild with anger. "The other thing is that you're not the master of the Elder Wand. You've wielded it for a year now, but you never defeated its original master."

"Severus Snape is dead, the betrayer!" Voldemort roared and Harry laughed- actually laughed. It was filled with bitterness at Snape's end, but he was willing to bet Voldemort wouldn't hear the nuance.

"Snape and Dumbledore agreed to a mercy killing, you swot!" he shouted, practically giddy now- with hysteria, probably, but that was alright. Things would be over very, very soon and then he could laugh all he wanted. Not that there was much to laugh about. "So," he continued, "Snape was never the master. Besides, you clearly missed what happened that night on the Astronomy tower, Voldemort. Someone disarmed Dumbledore first, before Snape killed him, and that person was the true master of the Elder Wand. And seeing as how, well, _I took his wand_, now _I_ am."

If Voldemort's face was capable of paling, it surely would have as he realized the import of Harry's words. The true master had been in Voldemort's grasp for months before Harry had taken his wand. And now, because of one little assumption- one of the few he made, and he didn't make them often- he was defeated.

He rallied supremely well, all things considered, and Harry narrowly missed the killing curse that made its way to him, but then he flicked out his own spell and it met the next curse from the tip of the Elder Wand with a magnificent shower of sparks. And the curse Voldemort had continued to shout, to send at Harry for so many years- all those times they'd met one another in and out of Voldemort's dreams (for though he would never tell another living soul, he'd been plagued with dreams of a happy, green eyed, black haired boy)- rebounded right onto his gleaming, pale snakelike skull.

Voldemort fell.

Harry lowered his wand and after a long moment he slowly, cautiously, walked over to the body where he picked up the Elder Wand. Then he stepped away just as carefully. A wall nearby crumbled and fell, crashing onto Voldemort's now quite dead body; and without another word or look, Harry turned and ran; leaving behind the burning shell of the school where Voldemort had both begun and ended.


	23. In Which Time Heals and Builds Anew

**Don't own it, don't make money.**

**AN: And here it is, the final chapter of the story. Or epilogue, whatever you want to call it. Pardon any spelling/grammar errors you see, please, I promise I'll get to them asap. I just wanted to get it up tonight and it is late and I'm tired. I've loved being on this ride with you all and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. This is only my second finished chapter length fan fic and I'm quite chuffed. Speaking of, if anyone wanted to nominate me over at any of those bloody Dramione awards I hear so much about I'd be more than happy. Also, someone really ought to design the new school crest. *pokes her readers* And I'm off! Kisses!**

* * *

_I shall be telling this with a sigh_

_Somewhere ages and ages hence:_

_Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--_

_I took the one less traveled by,_

_And that has made all the difference._

_-Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken_

* * *

When the dragon finally set down Hermione practically took to the air again, leaping from Charlie's arms to the ground and running across the grass into Harry's and Ron's arms. The three of them clasped one another tightly, though only Harry's and Hermione's faces streaked with tears, and Ron simply beamed with relief at them all being safe and alive. A few meters away Ginny and Luna had gathered with Draco and they had formed their own circle of experience and friendship, as tightly knit as the golden trio they all loved so well. Poppy Pomfrey was nearby too, with the students and the injured and Molly Weasley helped her while the rest of the Weasley family joined hands and clapped one another's shoulders. Dean, Daphne, and Cho, Rose too- they had all gathered and were keeping watch with the remaining Order members over the heroes of the hour. Only the house elves stood apart from the gathering of witches and wizards and magical creatures; content to stand on a lonely ridge and give a final salute to the school which had been their home for generations. Only they asked the question no one else cared about just then: where will we go now? Kreacher hobbled up next to the youngest of his kind and gave them a grandfatherly look.

"Now, we will go anywhere we wish," he told them wisely and they all nodded their heads, large ears bobbing in the cool night air. There was nothing else for them to do, really, although Kreacher secretly expected they would stick around to help build the new school, perhaps disperse amongst some of the new families being formed, and over all go back to their old lifestyle- with a few vital changes, of course.

The two trios of heroes eventually converged on one another and then everyone was hugging everyone else. Hermione barely knew where she was from one minute to the next, so many people kept putting their arms about her. Then there was a very particular set of arms around her belonging to a singed and sweaty torso and she looked up into Draco's eyes.

"It's over," she said.

"Still think you love me?" he replied and she managed to smile for him, despite the shock of the moment, despite the tears still streaming down her face.

"Give me a few months of normalcy before you ask me again," she teased before nodding. "But yeah, I'm pretty sure I do. As sure of anything as one can be right now."

"That's good enough for me," he said and captured her mouth. Their mutual exploration was interrupted by a large cheer that rose from the crowd around them and they smiled against each other's lips before breaking away and flushing. Hermione glanced about to see Luna and Ron, and Harry and Ginny in similar positions and she grinned. She looked back up to Draco, who was smirking. The crowd was still cheering and then it seemed that everyone was kissing someone and Draco brought his head down to hers once more.

Voldemort was dead, the school was burned and she was kissing a boy who had once thought her the nastiest girl alive. Life was strange and wonderful.

Hermione ran her hands up into his hair and pulled Draco closer. She thought the sootiness filling her senses, coating every inch of both of them, was the most wonderful thing she'd ever tasted in her life. It tasted like survival and rebirth. Whatever path had led him here, to her; whatever choices he'd made along the way; they had all been the right ones, for her to find herself in his arms now. For her to forgive every past indiscretion; for her to think he was the strongest and best man she'd known in a long time, excepting Harry and Ron…

She kissed him harder and felt him give a little gasp into her mouth. When he pulled away finally, there was a dreamy expression in his eyes. Draco realized that whatever he thought of her real feelings for him, whether they were the results of a savior-complex or something deeper, she wasn't going to let him escape. He thought he was quite alright with that. In fact, it made him the luckiest bastard this side the Atlantic. He idly wondered whether she liked diamonds before he noticed she was tugging his head back down to hers.

"You damned minx," he murmured.

"Your damned minx," she replied, smirking.

And he kissed her again.

* * *

"Awww," sighed all the girls.

"Eeew!" cried all the boys.

Luna sat back on the rock, smiling dreamily as Ron approached, attracted by the noise. He took one look at his wife's face and the faces of the children gathered around her and began laughing.

"Which story did you tell them now?" he asked and Luna looked up at him.

"How Uncle Draco and Aunt Hermione finally got together!" shouted one of the little boys, nose wrinkled in disgust.

Ron laughed again before sitting down. "Aw, that's the best one! Did you start at the very beginning, Luna? What did I miss?"

The group of children immediately broke into an argument and the little boys began assaulting Ron to get him to shut up or they'd never hear the end of it from all the little girls. They had no desire to go about kissing girls at their ages, thank you very much.

From a distance, Ginny and Draco watched the little ones tussling with Ron while Luna looked on and laughed before starting in on another story for the little girls; who were all standing up and fluffing their hair in an attempt to look more like the great heroine, Hermione. The children didn't all belong to the Weasleys, Malfoys, and Potters, but some of them certainly did. It was parents' day at the new wizarding school of the United Kingdom.

Ginny looked over and grinned at Draco. "That little boy of yours isn't afraid to jump in the fray, I see."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Please. That's not mine, he's Luna's. Little Art. You're confusing all blond haired children for Malfoys _again_. May I remind you that Jane has her mother's hair-"

"It is so Scorpius," she insisted, pointing. "Look, he's got that ferrety face of yours."

Draco glared at her, but peered at the group harder. "Holy- Scorpius!" he shouted. "Scorpius, you get off that boy right this instant!" And then he was stalking towards the group while Ginny stifled a giggle and turned to Daphne, who had hobbled up on a cane. She'd taken too much of a beating in the second war and she had sustained a permanent injury. Fortunately, Cho didn't seem to mind witches with limps.

"Seen Professor Thomas?" she asked politely.

"Dean? He's over somewhere with Hagrid and Longbottom, I think. They're organizing the blast-ended skrewt races."

Ginny nodded and started off in that direction. She passed Harry and Hermione on the way, who were seated side by side on a bench.

"Alright there, love?" she asked Harry, leaning over to give him a peck. He smiled up at her and nudged shoulders with his bench mate.

"Alright," he answered.

"Oh, Draco's with the kids now," she told Hermione. "Scorpius is fighting again," she warned her before sweeping away.

Hermione smiled and thanked her, then faced forward again.

"Fighting _again_?" Harry asked delicately, though his honest opinion was that if he'd been named Scorpius, he would have gotten in loads of fights as well.

"Er," said Hermione. "He idolizes Draco," she explained. "Thinks the only way to be like his dad is to take on as many tossers as possible."

"So he's…"

"Defending young witches' honor, you might say."

Harry looked skeptical. Scorpius was a pretty awful name, surely Hermione could see that.

"And starting fights too," Hermione admitted. "He claims they're for good reasons, but we're at our wits' ends."

Harry looked thoughtful. "You should sign him up for one of the extracurricular courses," he suggested. "You know, karate or something. Fencing, cricket…work off some of that energy." It would be easier than changing the kid's name, anyway.

"Of course! Why didn't I- you don't think he's too young?"

Harry laughed. "Not at all. Besides, there's always the private tutors if you don't want to put him in a class. But I think he'd do fine with a group. James likes his well enough. Why not take advantage of what's offered? Isn't it why we rebuilt? So we could make things right, blend the worlds, increase understanding and tolerance? How can we expect our children to live by our example if we never give it?"

Hermione laughed. "Okay, okay, I know what you mean. When did they make you headmaster, Harry?"

Harry grinned. "Oh, they offered, didn't I tell you? But I had this auror thing I wanted to do…"

"Right, how could I forget?" Hermione joked. "I do think the school is a good place for Percy, though, don't you? He's much less of a prat in an academic setting."

"Yeah, but only because he's in charge of the entire place," Harry grumbled good-naturedly.

They both fell quiet for a bit and resumed their contemplation of the place. After the war was over and they were certain the entirety of the castle had been destroyed (excepting the books, which Hermione had been extremely pleased to find out had a fail safe charm on them that removed them from the premises in case of fire, flooding, or other calamity); they had rebuilt, as promised. They'd scrapped the site of the old school altogether and the new one stood in a heavily wooded valley in the south of Cornwall. It was enchanted so that anyone looking for it would find only another long sunken valley. Fortunately there hadn't been any local muggles to move; and the only people who noticed anything going on were those of the small wizarding village on the hillside high above the trees. Though it was settled in amongst its own enchanted (but not forbidden) forest, it still boasted some lawns wide enough to hold festivities like family weekend activities. There was a deep river nearby and the coast was only a short broom ride or slightly longer hike away. Overall, the survivors (and the ministry) felt that they'd done a good job of choosing a new site and were well pleased. The old site remained heavily warded despite being cleansed of dark magic; the Forbidden Forest was still a dangerous place, after all; and the giant squid and merfolk of the lake didn't take kindly to unexpected swimmers.

With a new site came new designs for the school and its administration as well. It was just as large as the old castle, but better built and less hodgepodge. There was a large, central building with three outcroppings that were the dormitories. All classes took place inside the central building, unless said classes required specialized materials or spaces, such as the astronomy tower, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, or broom lessons. In addition to a Quidditch pitch they had materials in a storage area that they could use to set up for rugby, cricket, or football, and there was a track that ran around the pitch. Incorporating muggle sports was one of Harry and Hermione's more brilliant ideas to bring understanding and camaraderie of muggles to the wizarding world, they felt. Plus, all that extracurricular activity kept the energy levels of a bunch of young wizards and witches healthy. They had a proper muggle teaching Muggle Studies as well, which they'd felt was quite a coup. Ron had looked at them like they were batty, but Arthur Weasley had been over the moon.

They'd scrapped the old names as well, which was partly why they only needed the three dormitories. Having three gave them a sort of triangle symbol and the triangle, being one of the strongest shapes known, seemed appropriate. They weren't messing around with this second chance at life. They wanted to found the new school on strength, compassion and knowledge. The ministry, once it had gotten back on its feet and a new minister had been elected, had initially put up a fuss about all the changes Harry and the other members of the Order wanted to make. In fact, some fool on the Wizengamot had actually recommended they be prosecuted for burning Hogwarts. He'd been silenced rather quickly when faced with Hermione's pensieved memories. So, rebuilding had taken a little more effort than they'd expected, but once they'd received the final okay and funding from the ministry, things had moved quickly. The new school had been built in three years and so it was that Harry and Hermione found themselves, some ten years after the second war, sitting side by side and admiring their handiwork. The long nightmare followed by the long dream was over.

Dumbledore School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was hardly Hogwarts, but it was nice enough, what with its boarding section and the attached day school; which was where all three couples' children attended. There was a specialized floo system which recognized the children and their parents, allowing for the safety of the school's secrets. Oh, there was still a train that swept into the village above at the start of the year and spilled forth the older wizards and witches, eager to be away from home and back with their houses once again; but if a student missed the train there was no longer a need to steal a flying car to get there.

Nevermind that Prince, Black and Potter houses didn't have the same ring to them as Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin, but at least the names stood for something other than centuries of prejudice- on _both_ sides. Harry had originally suggested Snape, but Ron had pointed out that Severus had hardly liked his father and that he'd always referred to himself privately as a Prince. Black had seemed an obvious choice, what with not only Sirius to consider (though he'd had his moments as a complete git), but also Narcissa and Draco. Malfoy had been right out of the question, not that Draco was complaining any. Harry _had_ objected strenuously to Potter, but the ministry had put its foot down at that, as had just about every member of the new staff. (With the exception of its headmaster, Percy, who sniffed with disdain every time he walked by the Weasley Quidditch Pitch and Sports Arena. He'd much rather have had the McGonagall-Granger library under his family's distinguished name.)

Instead of the Sorting Hat, which had been completely confused by the new school and its strange dormitories, students were now sorted by a random drawing of names from a hat. (The hat in question bore no resemblance to the Sorting Hat, which was still used to sing the school song. No one seemed to care that it hadn't learned the words to the new one yet.) A bold red phoenix was emblazoned across the school crest , though each house had its own colors and animal. (Hermione had lobbied hard for Black's Kneazle and Harry had lobbied equally hard for his namesake's owl. They'd given Prince a stag, which Ron had finally reminded Harry was his dad's form, whom Severus had hated with a passion. At which Potter got the stag and Prince the owl.) The motto had even changed, since Charlie and Draco had argued that it was prejudiced against dragons; and now proclaimed, "The Dragon is Strong and Free." None of the new students were quite sure of the significance, though it gave many older witches and wizards pause as they recalled Hogwarts' motto.

No, it was no Hogwarts, but that was for the best, really. It was a safe, happy environment that was _new_. There were no terrible memories here; no built in prejudices other than those that a few of the orphaned children of Death Eaters managed to bring along. But even they saw the error of their ways after a few months of living with their kind, compassionate adoptive parents. There would always be a few that tried to cause trouble, Harry figured, but the numbers were definitely stacked in favor of wisdom and understanding this go round. He glanced over at Hermione, who was still staring at the tall, sandy stone pillars of the school's towers and smiled.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

She blinked and returned his gaze, smiling as well. "How glad I am we're here, that we've been here since the start of all this. It's done more for me than anything, save maybe Draco," she admitted.

"Then I'm glad, too," Harry responded, taking her hand and squeezing it. "You don't regret anything, then?"

"I'll always wish some things hadn't happened, hadn't needed to happen," she replied. "And there will always be a nightmare or two. But on the whole, no. No regrets."

"You don't know how glad I am to hear that," came a voice from behind them and then a wriggling and shame-faced little blond boy was dumped in her lap.

She laughed ruefully and looked up to Draco. "He's your son."

"Yes, but you're his mother. Take him. I can't do a thing with him. Jane and I are going to watch the skrewt races."

Hermione held onto her son and watched Draco begin to wander off, a little girl with sleek brown curls holding his hand. She turned back to Harry.

"To the skrewt races?" she asked.

Harry laughed. "That's one way of putting it."

He stood up and held out a hand to the little boy, who took it gladly and the three of them caught up to Draco, who glanced over at Hermione and smiled wryly. Her face broke in a grin and she leaned up to give him a peck on the lips.

"Eeew, Mummy!" Scorpius whined and Harry joined him in heckling the couple while Jane looked up at her mommy and daddy with wide, adoring grey eyes.

She had the bravest, most handsome, most in love parents in the whole world. Her seven year old mind wondered, not for the first time, how she'd gotten to be so lucky.

* * *

**Et fin.**


End file.
